Two Weeks With William
by Edith1
Summary: Our favourite vampire has amnesia. B/S, B/Wlm Complete.
1. Throwing 100 Odd Years To The Wind

Title: Two Weeks With William   
Author: Edith Campbell   
Section: 1   
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please ask.   
Rating: PG 15 for language   
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that I wrote this before Bargaining. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers.   
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y...   
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?   
  
********************************************************   
"I'll bet you a round of drinks at the Bronze that you get your ass   
kicked worse than I do tonight," Buffy told Spike as she tightened   
the grip on her stake and stepped into the cemetary.   
  
It was a relatively quiet night, and the Slayer and the vampire had   
made it through one other cemetary pretty much unscathed. She had   
only had to stake two freshly risen vampires, and that wasn't too   
much of a bother. She could handle that, and Spike hadn't even had   
to intervene. Stepping in was something that he had to do less and   
less these days, as Buffy was regaining the strength she'd lost in   
her time spent... dead, but he still accompanied her, and she had to   
admit to herself that she didn't mind all that much. He was still   
the same old pain in the ass that he used to be before the Glory   
showdown, but since her 'rebirth', he'd toned it down a little, and   
they seemed to have a sort of a truce. Buffy, if pressed, would call   
them friends.   
  
Spike stepped neatly around a headstone, crowding into the Slayer's   
space, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster.   
  
"I'll see that round of drinks," he answered, his English accent   
giving the words a nice clip, "And raise it to a round of Guinesses."   
  
"Deal," Buffy replied, sticking her hand out to confirm it.   
  
Spike ignored it blatantly. He cocked his scarred eyebrow at her and   
spit out, "And I wan' a pack of fags. I'm fresh out."   
  
Buffy scrunched up her nose and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, but   
only cause I know I'll win." With that, she gave him an almighty   
hair flip and stalked off in front of him.   
  
The vampire rolled his eyes and took the liberty of flipping off her   
back. If somebody had told him a scant few months ago that he'd be   
patrolling with the Slayer for free, he would laughed in their face,   
and reminded them of the tactless incident where he'd had Buffy   
chained to a bleedin' wall. If that same person had told him the   
very same thing a few weeks ago, he would have furiously pointed out   
that she was dead and buried. Then, he probably would have eaten   
that person for being an insensitive sod, chip be damned. This   
thought made him sigh, and he looked away from where he had been   
looking, to fix his gaze pointedly on Buffy's back. Looking at her   
made him shiver. He tried to remind himself that she'd been back for   
a month, and he should be used to it now, but really... He couldn't   
help it. He was always so relieved to see her alive that it almost   
made him giddy. Her return had brought him back from an emotional   
hell. Spike shuddered, not enjoying the memories of the months   
without her. He'd brooded and sulked enough to make his poofter of a   
grandsire proud. He shook his head slightly and wished that he   
hadn't rushed over to Buffy's quite so quickly. Maybe he could have   
stopped at the drug store. He really could use a cigarette about   
now.   
  
"Bloody hell, Slayer. Running throw the cemetary isn't exactly going   
to scare out any baddies!" he growled, hurrying to catch up.   
  
Buffy was about to open her mouth to reply, when a group of scruffy   
looking vampires stepped out from behind a mausoleum. She sent Spike   
a look that clearly read 'Oh yeah?' and faced their oponents.   
  
"Did you boys come all this way here just to play with little ol'   
me?" she baited, sizing them up. There were only four of them, and   
judging by the rather panicked looks on their faces, they were   
nothing that she and Spike couldn't handle. She, as a matter of   
fact, could probably handle them quite nicely on her own, but she   
could tell by the way Spike was shifting his weight that he was just   
jonesing for a fight. She tossed him a stake, and the fight was on.   
  
Three of the four turned their attention strictly on Buffy, which   
both annoyed and amused her. She heard Spike's muttered oath about   
it and had to laugh. If her unappropriately timed giggle phased the   
vampires, they didn't let her see it, and in mere moments, two of the   
three were dust. The third soon joined the dusty pile on the   
ground.   
  
Spike, who had long ago dusted his one challenger, clapped mockingly   
at the Slayer.   
  
"Good show, pet," he announced, dryly. Buffy raised an eyebrow,   
trying to judge whether or not Spike was being serious. His   
continuation proved that he wasn't.   
  
"You're a bit rusty. Coulda done them in half the time, if I had   
been given the chance," he theorized, "But those fledglings obviously   
don't realize the merits of staking William the Bloody. Not that   
they ever would, of course."   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retaliate, but before   
she could even get out a peep, Spike had crumbled at her feet.   
Confused, she looked up, and saw a smug looking vampire standing over   
the peroxide blond one.   
  
"I know the merits of staking William the Bloody!" this vampire   
declared.   
  
Buffy groaned, and waited for the vampire that she and Spike had   
carelessly missed to acknowledge her. She was certain he hadn't seen   
her, judging by the way he was smirking and muttering on about how he   
would finally rid the world of the "traitor". Finally, she could   
handle it no longer.   
  
"Ummm... hi?" she offered, waving a stake in his direction.   
Suddenly, he looked alarmed.   
  
"You're- you're the-"   
  
"Slayer?" She cocked her head, and nodded. The vampire decided that   
staking Spike could wait, and, without a glance at his unconscious   
victim, turned and ran. Buffy sighed and gave chase. When she   
returned, Spike was beginning to stir.   
  
"Good, you're awake!" she called, "I wasn't really looking forward to   
having to drag your sorry ass home. Guess I won the bet, huh? I   
knew I would."   
  
Spike sat up slowly. The world was spinning, and he was confused.   
He glanced around him, and felt a growing sense of alarm when he   
realized he was in a cemetary. He didn't remember going there. He   
also didn't recall the pretty blonde girl who was strutting towards   
him, a semi-annoyed smile plastered on her face.   
  
Buffy was sweetly oblivious to Spike's uncomfortable alarm. Merrily   
thinking about that round of drinks, she grabbed his arm and pulled   
him to his feet. Hastily, she checked him over. That was when she   
noticed the odd look on his face. He looked like he was in some kind   
of pain, which she supposed was natural considering the fact that   
moments before, he'd been unconscious.   
  
"Spike?" she asked, uncertainly.   
  
The vampire blinked blankly at her and replied, "Excuse me, miss, but   
are you talking to me?"   
  
Buffy dropped Spike's arm and took a step back, surprised. His   
accent had changed, she noted dumbly. His voice on the whole was   
softer, and his style of speaking had instantly become more refined.   
  
She didn't know what else to do, so she laughed. "Funny, who else   
would I be talking to? That pile of dust over there?" She pointed   
in the direction of their former opponents and arched an eyebrow.   
When he didn't answer her, she added, "What the hell is up with you?"   
  
He blinked, and looked around again, slower this time. If Buffy   
hadn't known Spike, she would have assumed that he was hopelessly   
lost. He stared at nothing for a long time, and when he finally   
turned to the petite blonde in front of him, he asked shakily, "Would   
you mind telling me... that is, do you know..."   
  
Was Spike stuttering? The whole situation was beginning to give   
Buffy the wiggins.   
  
"Spike, whatever you're playing at, why don't you drop it right now?   
Before I... stake you or something. This isn't funny."   
  
"Spike?" he echoed, looking over his shoulder for whoever that might   
be. When he saw that nobody was standing there, he turned back to   
the girl, and gave her a bit of a smile.   
  
Buffy swallowed hard. This was all starting to annoy her. Patience   
with Spike had never been her strong point.   
  
Sarcastically, she said, "Yeah, you know. That's your name?"   
  
Spike laughed then, and the sound of it surprised Buffy. It wasn't   
his normal laugh, she noted. This one was almost apologetic, and it   
was much quieter.   
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you must be mistaken. My name isn't Spike.   
It's William Wyndham." With that, he held out his hand.   
  
Buffy was too shocked to take it. With an unshakable sense of   
trepidation, she repeated, "William Wyndham?"   
  
As though he thought it might help, he said, "Yes, William Ashley   
Wyndham, the fifth."   
  
The woman was quite obviously slow, decided William Ashley Wyndham   
the fifth. She was staring at him, mouth agape, and he didn't quite   
know what to make of it. She was certainly the oddest woman he'd   
ever met. Here she was, standing in a graveyard, brandishing a piece   
of pointed wood, and referring to him as Spike. He decided to help   
her out a bit, deciding that maybe she could assist him in turn. He   
had a funny feeling that he wasn't where he should be.   
  
"And you are..." he prodded.   
  
"Buffy Summers," she replied, grabbing his hand and shaking it. When   
she realized what she'd done, she dropped it immediately and stepped   
back further.   
  
"It's alright, Buffy," she thought, "It's totally normal to be   
standing in a graveyard introducing yourself to Spike. Introducing   
yourself to Spike??"   
  
"Spike!" she cried, angry now, "Would you just lay off this 'I am   
William Ashley Wyndham, Lord of blah blah blah' because I'm really   
not amused here!" She punched his arm to prove this.   
  
William made a noise that was stuck between offense and disbelief,   
and took another look at the girl. He noticed then that she was   
wearing pants and a shirt that left absolutely nothing to the   
imagination. Gasping, he took off his duster and shoved it in her   
direction.   
  
"Good heavens, woman! What on earth are you wearing? Is that really   
the custom with Americans these days? You can see..." He trailed   
off and looked infinately embarrassed.   
  
Buffy took the duster, partly because she'd always secretly wanted to   
wear it, and partly because Spike... or William... or whoever the   
hell Spike thought he was, was looking honestly alarmed at her   
appearance.   
  
"Thank you? I've never had a-"   
  
"What am I wearing?" he gasped, looking at his own clothes. He   
looked back up at Buffy, pure panic marring his face. "What's going   
on? Where the blazes am I? And what in the bloody hell is THAT!?"   
  
He pointed at the road and paled considerably. Buffy turned around,   
and bit back a smile when she saw the car that had driven past. All   
thoughts of smiling vanished however, when she saw how frightened   
William looked.   
  
"It's... it's... a carriage," she finished, lamely.   
  
He didn't believe her, she could tell that much. "I've never seen a   
carriage like that. There weren't any horses."   
  
"Oh, there were," she laughed, uneasily, "You just... um... you just   
couldn't see them. Went by too fast, you must have missed them."   
  
"Must have missed them," he muttered, shaking his head.   
  
Although Buffy harboured very few doubts in her mind, she asked   
weakly, "William... Mr. Wyndham, would you mind telling me the date?"   
  
William looked up at her and shook his head again, obviously still in   
a state of disbelief. "Of course. It's January 15, 1880."   
  
Damn. Buffy processed this slowly, and tried to think of something   
to tell him. He was gazing at her, wide-eyed with confusion.   
  
"Miss," he began, softly, "may I be so bold as to ask what is   
happening?"   
  
Buffy laughed dryly, and took hold of his arm again. "Couldn't tell   
you. But I have a friend who can."   
  
With that, she pulled him out of the cemetary, and onto a back road,   
hoping to avoid any further car incidents. She hoped fervently that   
Giles would know what to do. 


	2. Meeting A Victorian

Title: Two Weeks With William   
Author: Edith Campbell   
Section: 2   
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being   
distributed. :)   
Rating: PG 15 for language   
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?   
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers.   
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the   
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!   
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?   
Author's Notes: I am sorry about naming him 'William Ashley Wyndham,   
the fifth'. I wasn't aware that the English didn't do the   
whole 'fifth' thing. After this chapter, it won't happen again!   
  
******************************************************************   
Buffy pushed open the door of the Magic Shop, relieved that it was   
only 8:30, and therefore still open. She stepped in before William,   
only because he'd refused to budge from his spot outside of the door   
until she'd done so. His manners were starting to get to Buffy.   
They were a reminder of that awful night when Spike had confessed his   
feelings to her. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory,   
and wondered exactly what she was expected to do now. She had no   
idea whether or not Spike's condition was temporary, or even what his   
condition was. She did know that she had to help. She owed the   
vampire that much. Which was precisely the reason she needed Giles   
right that instant.   
  
"Giles! Something's is majorally wrong!" she yelled, crossing her   
arms. She leaned against the wall to wait for her Watcher, and was   
vaguely surprised when he came running in her direction only moments   
later.   
  
"Buffy, what is it?" he cried, startled by the Slayer's   
outburst, "Have you been injured?"   
  
Buffy grimaced, but shook her head and tried not to feel irritated.   
Ever since her 'rebirth', her friends had taken to treating her like   
glass. The thought of a glass Slayer struck her as equally funny and   
annoying, but she did wish that they would stop. Spike was so far   
the only one who hadn't treated her like a fragile doll (at least to   
her face. She'd caught him watching her a few times, his face full   
of puzzled astonishment), and she begrudgingly appreciated it. This   
reminded her of the situation at hand.   
  
"No, I'm fine. It's Spike..." She let her voice trail off, and   
looked over her shoulder to indicate the vampire. However, he was   
not behind her. Confused, she turned fully around and saw him   
hovering in the entrance, looking very much like a shy little boy who   
felt out of place. She smiled softly, despite herself, and motioned   
for him to come in.   
  
"What's wrong with him? He looks fine to me," Giles declared,   
watching the peroxide blond move towards Buffy. He noticed the   
change then, and although he could not exactly place it, he was aware   
that something was phenomenally different with Spike.   
  
Suddenly remembering his manners, William stepped in front of Buffy   
and offered Giles his hand.   
  
"Good evening, sir," he said, "I'm William Wyndham."   
  
"The fifth," Buffy added, amused at Giles' expression. His eyes had   
almost bugged out of his head in surprise. Slowly, he removed his   
glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silent   
reflection, he looked to Buffy for help.   
  
"Play along," she mouthed, making gestures at William's back.   
  
Giles complied, stepped forward, and gave the hand that he was   
offered a shake. His voice was uncertain when he replied, "Umm...   
I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Wyndham. I'm Rupert Giles."   
  
Suddenly pleased, William exclaimed, "Oh thank Heavens! Another   
Brit!"   
  
Buffy, who was slightly miffed at his comment, turned to him. "Do   
you think you could go to the back, Mr. Wyndham? There's a table   
there and... yeah. We'll be there in a sec." She smiled   
unconvincingly and gave him a little shove in that direction. He   
nodded a farewell, and did as he was bidded. Buffy hoped fervently   
that Anya would not decide to stop him.   
  
"Buffy," Giles hissed, turning back to the Slayer, "What is going on   
here? Have you encountered some sort of trouble? And why on earth   
are you wearing Spike's duster?"   
  
Quickly, Buffy explained about the vampires in the cemetary, and the   
one who had knocked Spike over the head. She told him how she'd   
dusted him, and returned to find a quieter Spike who thought that it   
was January 15, 1880. She laughed, partly embarrassed, through the   
part about the duster and the car, and told him how they'd taken the   
back alleys to the shop, to avoid other vehicles, or any form of   
present day technology that might startle him. When she finished,   
Giles looked partially amused.   
  
"Spike would hate this," he announced. He took a moment to laugh at   
that, and then turned serious again. "What do you want to do, Buffy?"   
  
"We have to help him... don't we?" she asked. She'd given it a lot   
of thought on the way to the shop, and had decided that that was her   
only option. She thought it would be cruel to turn him away after   
the effort he'd made to keep Dawn safe during her... absense.   
  
"I suppose," Giles said, with a shrug, "Does he know he's a vampire?"   
  
"I'm thinking not. But you can tell he's worried. I mean, he thinks   
he should be in London, and here he is in America. It's way weird."   
She nodded to emphasize her words.   
  
"I'm going to make a telephone call," Giles announced, suddenly. He   
stepped around Buffy and moved to the desk. "We need to find out if   
Spike's... amnesia is temporary, and whether it will do any damage to   
let him in on the truth."   
  
Buffy nodded, tuned Giles out as he left the room, and idly let her   
gaze wonder to William. Where had the confident, cocky Spike they   
all knew and loved to hate gone, she wondered. The man sitting in   
front of the table wasn't him, that was for sure. He looked so out   
of place and uncomfortable that the Slayer felt a tiny inkling of...   
pity? No, that was wrong. Pitying Spike was something she couldn't   
do, she reminded herself instantly. He was a killer, after all.   
  
He'd kept Dawn safe.   
  
She shook her head in frustration and was happy to see Xander and   
Willow approaching. They'd take her mind off of things.   
  
"Hey!" she called.   
  
"Yeah, you could say that," Xander greeted, his voice full of   
sarcastic shock, "Or you could say 'why the hell are you wearing the   
evil undead's jacket'?"   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. So much for taking her mind off of things!   
Quickly, she gave her friends the abridged version of the events in   
the cemetary, and then decided for all of them that it was time to go   
and see Giles.   
  
*****   
  
William watched the petite blonde- was her name Buffy Summers?- pull   
her friends in the direction that the British gentleman had left in,   
and swallowed an annoyed sigh. Could it be that they planned to   
leave him there all night? He needed answers, and, although he was   
far too timid to ever go about demanding them, he was beginning to   
feel as though he had no other choice. He was dreading that   
immensely, but he knew he had to get home. It must be getting late,   
and his mother and sister would worry.   
  
He was almost certain that if he could just figure out where in the   
hell he was, he'd be able to get home without trouble. True, he'd   
never travelled alone, but he had listened to his cousin's tales many   
times, and it didn't seem to be too daunting of a task.   
  
The girl had been American, he knew that much. But, that didn't   
necessarily mean that he was IN America, as the man had been   
English. He was fairly certain that his presence in America was   
impossible. He clearly remembered going to bed in London, and waking   
up in that damned cemetary. It must have been the same night, he   
concluded, reaching for his pocket watch to determine the time.   
  
He'd forgotten, of course, that his pocket watch was nowhere to be   
found. It had disappeared with the rest of his clothing, and that   
chagrined him. He didn't understand how he'd gotten into the black   
pants and shirt he was in now, and he couldn't figure out why his   
nails were black.   
  
Had the blonde girl changed his outfit so that he'd fit in with his   
surroundings? Her clothes had been horrifying. The memory of what   
he'd gotten a glimpse of made him feel embarrassed, and he shifted   
uncomfortably. He needed to concentrate on the matter at hand.   
Remembering Miss Summers'... assests most certainly wouldn't get him   
anywhere. Groaning, he wished they'd all hurried back.   
  
****   
  
"There's a doctor on the way," Giles announced, when the Scoobies   
came to the register where he'd chosen to make his call.   
  
"Doctor?" Buffy gasped, "Have you forgotten something, Giles? The   
patient doesn't have a pulse!"   
  
Giles looked insulted. "No, Buffy, I haven't. This doctor deals   
with demons, to put it frankly. He's one himself. I took the   
liberty of making sure he had a human facade. I don't think learning   
the world is full of monsters is exactly what Sp- err, William needs."   
  
"What about learning that he is one?" Willow pushed, gently.   
  
"The doctor assured me that it would most likely be safe to assume   
that Spike's amnesia is only temporary. It's up to us then. Do you   
want to tell him?"   
  
"No!" Buffy and Xander cried, in unison.   
  
"Xander? You have an opinion on the matter?" Giles asked. He knew   
the Slayer had one.   
  
"Well yeah. If Spike's as much of a... well, how would he put it?...   
poofter as you seem to think he is, think of the blackmail! Think of   
the blackmail, people!"   
  
Buffy groaned, and punched Xander's arm lightly.   
  
"Oh, don't pretend that that exact same thought hasn't crossed your   
minds," Xander replied, faking insult.   
  
"No, actually it hasn't," Buffy lied, before turning to Giles, "I   
think it would be kind of cool to see what Spike was really like. I   
was sure that he'd 'always been bad'-" she rolled her eyes "-but this   
is new."   
  
"I was thinking along the same lines," Giles agreed, nodding, "I   
would love to be the first Watcher to correctly write about William   
the Bloody before he was famous, if you will. Think how the Watchers   
Council would like that!"   
  
"No!" the Slayer cried, her refusal so vehement and firm that it   
surprised even her. Her friends turn to stare.   
  
"No?" the Watcher echoed.   
  
Buffy laughed uneasily, and looked at her feet. The answer wasn't   
there however, and she was forced to look back up.   
  
"It's just that, if I'd spent a century getting a reputation as The   
Big Bad, I wouldn't exactly want it stepped on, you know?" she   
supplied, weakly, "And, anyway, his reputation is pretty much the   
only thing keeping him safe from all the baddies out there anyway.   
Not that I care if he's safe."   
  
Giles noticed that both Willow and Xander were going to protest this,   
but he shook his head slightly. He didn't agree with Buffy, but she   
seemed firm on that fact.   
  
"Okay," Willow said, "So now what do we tell him?"   
  
****   
  
"We are a group of Pinkerton's finest private investigators, and our   
contacts in London have sent you here- to Sunnydale, California- to   
keep you safe," Giles recited. When he finished, all the Scoobies   
complimented his lie with a smile so chipper, the ill-fated Buffybot   
would have been proud.   
  
"You don't say," William said, somewhat dryly. He arched his   
eyebrow, and it was glaringly apparent that he didn't believe a word   
he'd been told.   
  
So, William wasn't stupid.   
  
"We have to keep you safe here," Buffy interjected, nodding, "You   
saw... a-a crime."   
  
"I am fairly certain that I did not. I do not condone violence, you   
see. It's much too dark and unpleasant. And also I do not remember   
seeing any such thing." It was a big speech for him, and William was   
proud. His voice hadn't even shook. He hadn't exactly voiced his   
annoyance, but it was a step in the right direction.   
  
"Oh, but you did," Giles continued, "It is common for you not to   
remember, you see."   
  
"Post traumatic stress disorder," the Slayer supplied.   
  
Off the vampire's confused look, Willow hissed, "Buff, that hasn't   
been discovered yet." Louder, she added, "It's for your own good.   
You were in danger in London."   
  
There was an incredibly long silence, during which William processed   
the information. He didn't believe them, but for the time being, he   
decided to play along. "I see. And so rather than making me leave   
the city, they made me leave the continent?"   
  
Buffy blinked in surprise, although why she did so was beyond her.   
For a second, she had glimpsed a tinge of Spike in William's eyes.   
He was irritated, and she knew it.   
  
"It was a very serious crime," Anya piped up. Everybody turned to   
look at her, surprised at her sudden entrance.   
  
She rolled her eyes. "I was standing here all along."   
  
"Very serious, indeed," Giles added.   
  
"I see," William said again, examining his hands. After a pause, he   
tacked on, "And my sister and mother? Are they... aware of my   
whereabouts?"   
  
"They know why you have gone away. We could only tell them so   
much." Giles smiled companionably at William. So far, he didn't   
mind the softer side of Spike.   
  
"Please... I don't wish to be rude," he said, quietly, "But I'm   
rather weary. It's been a long... while. Post tramautic stress   
disorder." He shook his head in confusion, stood up, and was halfway   
to the door before he remembered that he had no idea where he was   
meant to go. This was all starting to feel rather humiliating.   
  
The blonde Slayer was already on her feet. "Giles, he'll stay with   
Dawn and me. Send the doctor over there." She turned to William and   
smiled. "Just wait at the door, I'll be there in a second."   
  
She waited until he was out of hearing distance before turning to   
Willow. Suddenly, she felt like the old Buffy again. She was in   
control.   
  
"Wil, I need some sort of spell. He won't drink blood. Can you make   
it not red and tasteless or something?"   
  
Willow smiled at her friend. "I'm on it."   
  
"Good. I guess I'll just tell him it's too dangerous to go out   
during the day. Thanks guys." She smiled wearily, and turned to   
take William home. 


	3. Adventures In The Crypt

Title: Two Weeks With William   
Author: Edith Campbell   
Section: 3   
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being   
distributed. :)   
Rating: PG 15 for language   
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?   
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers.   
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the   
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!   
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?   
  
******************************************************************   
  
Buffy pushed open the door of the spare bedroom and hurried in before   
William, suddenly self-conscious. She was still unsure and   
uncomfortable in her role as head of the house, and she longed to be   
able to inspect the room before handing it over to a guest.   
  
She shook herself. This was Spike, for crying outloud. It wasn't as   
though he hadn't seen every single room in her house before. She   
didn't have a thing to worry about.   
  
But she did, and she couldn't place what exactly. She wanted to...   
please William. He seemed shy and sweet, and the Slayer liked him.   
Plus, he had no memory whatsoever of trying to kill her, and that was   
an added bonus.   
  
"You can stay here," Buffy said, moving out of William's way.   
  
He stepped neatly around the Slayer, taking great care not to crowd   
into her. Intimidation was not William's forte. Quickly, he   
surveyed the room, taking note of the comfortable looking bed and the   
soft beige walls that were decorated with pieces of art that he was   
not at all familiar with. It was a very nice room, and he told her   
that.   
  
Buffy felt a blush approaching and quickly shoved it off. "Thanks.   
My mom designed it. She was good at that sort of thing."   
  
William noticed how her voice trailed off, and he saw the pain in her   
eyes. Carefully, he questioned, "And will I get to meet her? I'm   
sure she's a wonderful woman."   
  
"She was," Buffy said, pointedly looking away.   
  
He realized his mistake immediately and took in a breath of air that   
he didn't know was useless to him.   
  
"I'm very sorry," he said, sincerely, "I understand your pain. My   
father's past on, too."   
  
Buffy nodded and hurriedly changed the subject. "Can I get you   
anything?"   
  
He looked behind him into the room, and looked uncomfortable. Buffy   
noticed this, and instantly hypothesized that he was in need of   
something. Timidly, he turned to her.   
  
"My things..." he began, "When I was spirited out of England... where   
are my belongings? I'm sure I brought some."   
  
"Y-your stuff?" Shit. Buffy gaped at him, speechless.   
  
"Yes. That is- please, I would like to have them."   
  
Buffy chuckled, nervously. "I bet you would. So... so I'll get them   
for you! They're at... at... Giles' house! Yeah, silly me, how   
could I forget? I will get them for you right now."   
  
"Thank you," he said, somberly.   
  
Buffy nodded, her distraction showing. She was almost out of his   
room before she remembered the paper Giles had slipped her before she   
left his house. She dug it out of her back pocket, and handed it to   
William.   
  
"Giles wants me to get you to fill this out. Don't worry, I made him   
promise not to tell the Watchers Council."   
  
"The what?"   
  
"Oh... haha," she laughed nervously, "Nothing. I'll be getting your   
stuff now."   
  
She smiled, turned around, and spun out of the room, swearing under   
her breath. Once she heard the click of William's door closing, she   
turned to glare at it.   
  
"You want your things, Spike? Where the HELL do you except me to   
find them?" she hissed, annoyed. She stood glaring at the door for a   
full five minutes, before turning to use the phone. Impatiently, she   
dialed Willow's number, and waited for the witch to pick up.   
  
"Hi, Wil?... Yeah, it's Buffy... No, nothing's wrong. Spike's still   
not Spike... I know, very wiggy... Listen, you think you could come   
over? I have to go do some searching in Spike's crypt and I don't   
want him to get all extra crispy while I'm gone... No, Dawn doesn't   
know yet. She's still sleeping. I'll tell her tomorrow... Thanks,   
Willow! I owe you!... Yeah, okay, bye!"   
  
Twenty minutes later, the Slayer was on her way to Spike's crypt.   
  
****   
Buffy had never experienced the slightest bit of guilt over barging   
into Spike's crypt in the morning when he was in it. When it was   
empty, she was hit with a boatload of it, and it completely disgusted   
her. Here she was, one of the greatest Slayers of all time, and she   
was hovering on Spike's doorstep like a scared fool.   
  
"You're just not a snoop," she told herself, innocently, "Besides,   
it's not like Spike went through your things. Oh wait, yes he did."   
  
Feeling justified, she pushed upon the door of the crypt and walked   
confidently in, taking time only to yell out a mocking, "Honey! I'm   
home!"   
  
The heavy smell of musty cigarettes was the only thing that greeted   
her. She hesitated for a moment, breathing in the comforting smell.   
She'd smelt it clearly on his duster, that distinctly familiar scent   
that was all Spike's own. She would never admit it outloud, but it   
was one she liked. Leaning against the bier, she remembered when   
he'd talked to her on her porch the night her mother had stayed at   
the hospital. As soon as he'd sat down, she'd felt comforted and   
safe. He was there- her familiar... constant?   
  
He shouldn't make you feel safe, she reminded herself, stepping   
around the bier in search of something that Spike might have kept   
from his time as a human. He should make you feel scared and   
intimidated.   
  
She didn't feel that way at all.   
  
"It's his chip!" she cried, frustrated, "He doesn't scare me cause of   
his chip."   
  
Nodding decisively, she moved to go downstairs. She paused at the   
top, remembering how much it had hurt to be electicuted by Dru.   
Then, she recalled Spike's Buffy shrine, and she grimaced. What if   
it was still down there? Timidly, she peaked around the corner,   
trying to shake off a major case of the wiggins. She couldn't see   
anything, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. But, then again,   
Dawn had been there since THAT night, and she would have told Buffy   
if Spike was still all freakily obsessed... wouldn't she?   
  
She would have. Taking a deep breath, Buffy ran around the corner   
and saw...   
  
Nothing to do with her. She breathed a small sigh of relief, and   
turned about, anxiously waiting for something to catch her eye.   
Something did.   
  
Not far from where she had been chained to the wall, there was a pile   
of miscellanious stuff. Quickly, she moved to it, and squatted   
down. The Slayer had to shove off a pile of blankets and a few   
changes of clothes before she found the trunk underneath. Squealing   
with morbid curiousity, she hoisted up the lid, half expecting to   
find a dead body or some other sick suvenir Spike might find   
amusing. Once the cloud of dust had cleared, Buffy began her work,   
gingerly picking through his items.   
  
At first, she didn't find anything at all except for an odd weapon or   
two. Her search was beginning to bore her. She was just about to   
stand up when her hand brushed against something that felt like...   
hair?   
  
"Ahh!" Buffy yelped, jumping to her feet, and taking the hairy object   
with her. She pulled it around to her front so that she could see   
what she'd grabbed, and found a porcelain face with its eyes missing   
staring back at her.   
  
"AHHHHH!!!" she screamed, louder this time. She chucked the doll at   
the wall opposite her, and quickly began to wipe her hands on her   
pants. "Eww... dirty Dru doll... Yuck!"   
  
For a moment, she did nothing put clasp her heart and feel   
disgusted. Then she turned back to the trunk.   
  
Dropping to her knees, she mumbled, "Crazy bitch."   
  
Swearing nervously, Buffy begin to dig through the rest of the trunk,   
depositing the odd period piece outfit beside it. Spike obviously   
wasn't one for saving things, she thought dryly. Under one of Dru's   
gowns that Buffy had to begrudgingly admit was quite lovely, she made   
her first real discovery. Shoved in the corner, Spike had placed a   
tiny, intricately carved box. She grabbed at it greedily, and opened   
the lid. The hinges squeaked loudly, and Buffy's instincts told her   
this box hadn't been opened in a very long time.   
  
When she saw a portrait yellow with age of a young woman with huge   
brown eyes laying on the top of the box, she knew she'd hit the   
jackpot. Carefully, she sat on the floor and pulled the photo out   
for a better look.   
  
The woman was beautiful. She had the sweetest heart shaped face   
Buffy had ever seen, and she was definately dressed stylishly. Who   
was she?   
  
Impatiently, Buffy flipped the photo over, looking for a clue. In   
exquisite cursive, somebody had scrawled 'Cecily Addams'.   
  
Cecily Addams? Had Spike- had _William_- taken a wife? Something   
deep inside Buffy twitched and her eyes grew wide.   
  
"That so was not jealousy!" she said loudly, to the empty   
crypt. "Spike can marry whoever the hell he pleases."   
  
Despite her statement, she was relieved to remember that Spike's last   
name was Wyndham, not Addams. Determindedly, she shoved the photo   
back in the box, and stood up.   
  
She needed to go back to her house. It was time to find William and   
ask him some questions. 


	4. To Protect From The World

Title: Two Weeks With William   
Author: Edith Campbell   
Section: 4   
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being   
distributed. :)   
Rating: PG 15 for language   
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?   
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers.   
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the   
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!   
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?   
  
******************************************************************   
  
"William!" Buffy shouted, in her best drill sergeant voice. She'd   
used the tone on his more evil half more times than she cared to   
count. Good ol' intimidation... which would have worked better if   
Spike had actually been intimidated.   
  
Her sharp bark didn't phase William either, she grudgingly noticed,   
stepping into the guestroom without knocking. The innocent vampire   
was curled in a ball on the bed deep in sleep (which wasn't a great   
surprise, as it was day) oblivious to her commands. This annoyed her.   
  
"William," she urged, softer this time.   
  
He turned slightly at the sound of his name, facing Buffy. He hadn't   
woken up, and the Slayer was amused to discover that he made a slight   
wheezing sound during slumber. His look of utter peace warmed her,   
and she felt the unbidden urge to crawl into bed next to him and   
cuddle right up. She shook it off with a sigh, marched over, and   
gave him a light shake.   
  
"Aww, Spikey, you're so cute when you sleep!" she cooed, with only   
the barest hint of sarcasm. Then she added, "Wake up. I've got your   
stuff."   
  
William shook her hand off, and murmured in a voice heavy laden with   
sleep, "Go 'way, Kitty. There's nothing under your bleedin' bed.   
Thought we had a good chat about that with Mum."   
  
Buffy arched an eyebrow and chuckled. "Ummm... I'm not Kitty?"   
  
He groaned, and threw his hand above his head. He lay there   
perfectly still for a moment, before cracking open his eyes. Once   
again, Buffy experienced an odd warming sensation in the pit of her   
stomach that was way, way too close to affection for her likings.   
  
"Mornin' sunshine!" she announced, chipperly.   
  
William's eyes widened in embarrassment, and he sat up so quickly   
that it made Buffy jump.   
  
"Miss Summers! I'm sorry... I... I didn't mean to fall asleep and-"   
  
Oh, thought the Slayer, if vampires could blush! "Hey, no worries.   
And what's with this Miss Summers stuff? I'm Buffy."   
  
"Oh, yes of course, Miss Sum- Buffy." He smiled sheepishly at her,   
before glancing down to make sure he wasn't in his nightclothes. He   
was very relieved to find that he was still wearing the same hideous   
black outfit.   
  
"Your things." She pointed at the box and waited for his eyes to   
show some sort of recognition.   
  
He gasped. "That's Mum's jewelry box! I can't believe that she let   
me take that." He chuckled, a deep, low grumble from the back of his   
throat.   
  
Spike had kept his mother's jewelry box? The warm feeling was there   
again, and this time Buffy, who had formed a huge attachment with   
anything belonging to her mother since her death, didn't try to   
push it away.   
  
She smiled as she watched him rifle through the box, 'ooh'ing   
and 'ahh'ing in appreciation as he saw what he had 'packed'. A few   
things, he clearly did not recognize and Buffy felt it safe to assume   
that he'd collected them from between now (or January of 1880, Buffy   
reminded herself) to the time he'd been turned.   
  
Suddenly more curious about the history of her favourite enemy who   
had quite clearly not always been bad, the Slayer asked, "Can I ask   
you some questions?"   
  
William looked up shyly from his box and nodded. "I filled out the   
form for Mr. Giles." He pointed at it sitting on the counter, and   
Buffy scooped it up.   
  
His writing was neater than Buffy had imagined it would be, and she   
wondered if Spike still wrote like that. It was the most beautifully   
shaped pensmanship that she'd ever seen. Quickly, she read the list   
of Giles' standard questions.   
  
'Questions for (scratched out Spike) William:   
  
NAME: William Ashley Wyndham   
DOB: 14 September, 1853   
LOCATION: London, England   
FATHER and DOB/DOD: William Grey Wyndham (15 December, 1823 - 07   
June, 1864)   
MOTHER and DOB/DOD: Emily Ashley (21 February 1835)   
SIBLING(s): Katherine Emily Wyndham (12 August, 1863)'   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes, and wondered if Giles could have been any more   
basic. She didn't want this. She wanted the dirt.   
  
"So... how old are you?" she drawled, before kicking herself for   
asking a question that was right up Giles' lane.   
  
"Six and twenty," he replied, distractedly.   
  
"Six an- 26. Making you the second oldest Scooby. You're still the   
second oldest Scooby!" She laughed, before realizing that she had   
just referred to Spike as a Scooby, without the slightest concern.   
She wasn't being careful.   
  
William glanced at her as though she were off her bird, and looked as   
though he were about to make a retort. He bit it back, however, and   
Buffy was oddly disappointed. It had only been two days since she'd   
seen 'Spike' and she already missed the verbal sparring.   
  
"I wanna know about your life," she said, impatiently, "So, spill."   
  
"Spill?" he echoed, "What do you wish to know?"   
  
"I dunno, everything!" She made herself comfortable on the bed,   
stretching out her legs and resting her head on her arms. This all   
made William uncomfortable, and he tried desperately to remind   
himself of Cecily Addams.   
  
"Right. Born in London, lived there almost all my life. Have a   
sister, and a mum. There you have it. The end." He raised an   
eyebrow at her cockily.   
  
There was the Spike she knew and loved to hate! She grinned and   
thought in her best Spike accent, "Right. You want to learn all about   
how I bested the Slayers, and you want to learn fast. All right then:   
We fought, I won, the end, pay up."   
  
"I wouldn't pay you for that," she said, earning another confused   
glance, "C'mon- I want details. Where you were when..." She wasn't   
getting anywhere. With a groan, she tacked on, "Tell me about your   
sister. You thought I was her for a minute- wanted her to know there   
was nothing under her bed."   
  
"Want to know about Kitty, eh?" He smiled, warmly. "She's great, the   
little bit."   
  
Buffy's eyes widened at the mention of Dawn's nickname. It was on   
the tip of her tongue to comment on it, but then she remembered that   
this Spike hadn't even met Dawn.   
  
"What was she so afraid of?" she pried.   
  
"Monsters and things of the like. Made Mum feel real guilty," he   
sighed, "On the account of her growing up without a father and all."   
  
He narrowed his eyes, surprised at how easy conversation flowed with   
the pretty blonde. He looked at her suspiciously, wondering how much   
of Kitty's problem he could trust with her. Finally, because he was   
lonely and talking about his sister cheered him up, he decided to   
tell all.   
  
"She's afraid of vampires," he said so softly that Buffy had to   
strain to hear him.   
  
"Vampires!" Buffy exclaimed, trying and failing to hide her ironic   
surprise.   
  
William sighed, and sympathy clouded his eyes. "One night when she   
was six, she had a... dream that there was a vampire in her room.   
Said he locked her in her closet and sucked her blood."   
  
"What happened?"   
  
"She told us the vampire tried and failed to open her bedroom window,   
and caught on fire when he couldn't get out before the night ended.   
She has quite the imagination." William chuckled, uneasily wishing   
that he hadn't aired his sister's dirty laundry.   
  
The Slayer felt a huge ball of empathy rise within her. She knew   
that nobody would ever have believed the girl, and she wished that   
she had been there to stake that vamp good and proper.   
  
"William, that's awful," she said, laying her hand on his arm in   
comforting support.   
  
He looked at it and swallowed, before awkwardly spitting out, "She   
has me to protect her."   
  
Deciding to change the subject, Buffy asked, "How old's she? I have   
a sister who's fourteen."   
  
"She's almost seventeen. Mum is very excited to find her a husband.   
Nobody in the ton is safe!" He laughed earnestly that time. "Kitty   
and I are very close."   
  
"How old were you when your father died?"   
  
William looked up suddenly, pain and hurt flickering in his eyes.   
Buffy cringed. She definitely earned the award for tacky   
conversation starters.   
  
"If you don't wanna tell me I'd-"   
  
"I was almost eleven. Kitty was one. Mum was devastated and it was   
awful."   
  
"But you protected them," Buffy said, knowledge flooding her.   
  
"I tried, anyway. My father made me promise to, before he died. But   
Mum wouldn't have it." He shook his head. "She didn't want me   
growing up without a father, so she sent me off to live with her   
brother, who had five sons."   
  
Buffy cringed, feeling bitter towards Mrs. Wyndham. The young Spike   
wouldn't have felt anything but scared and abandoned. William's   
voice had thickened, and she could tell his memories at his uncle's   
house were not happy ones.   
  
"You don't have to tell me, William."   
  
William glanced at her, his eyes steely. He WANTED to tell her, more   
than he had ever wanted to tell anybody anything. During his brief   
stay in America, she had been nothing but nice to him, and he felt   
the strongest and strangest connection with her. It was as though he   
had known her before, long ago.   
  
"My uncle was a hard man," he said, emotionlessly, "And his sons were   
no better. They made my life hell- excuse my language- for five   
years. The only thing I learned there was that I was the poorest   
excuse for a man they'd ever seen. Oh, and I learned how to fight a   
little, although I don't do so. Don't care for it, you see.   
I left when I was almost sixteen, and have stayed with Mum and Kitty   
ever since."   
  
Something in Buffy hardened, and she murmured, "You're man enough for   
me."   
  
William shrugged, looked embarrassed and awkward, and bent his head.   
A moment later, he reached for his box, and withdrew an old, tattered   
book.   
  
"What's that?" the Slayer asked, leaning forward to see.   
  
Spike's past counterpart made a choking noise and sputtered. "T-   
this? It's my... p-poems."   
  
Buffy arched her eyebrow, confused at his sudden transformation into   
the bumbling, unsure man again. Then she realized what he'd said.   
  
"You write poems? That's too rich!" And then, before she could stop   
herself, she laughed. Spike the Poet.   
  
He looked away, hurt, and tried to put his book back into his box   
unseen.   
  
"I don't write them often," he lied, quietly, "It's just something I   
like to do."   
  
"Can I read them?" Buffy asked, sitting her knees.   
  
"You want to read them??" He looked as though he were about to choke   
on his tongue.   
  
"Well... yeah."   
  
"They're not very good," he warned, warily.   
  
"C'mon, just lemme."   
  
Begrudgingly and cautiously, he handed her his treasure.   
  
"Please..." his voice trailed off, as he was not sure exactly what he   
wanted to say.   
  
Buffy stood up, clutching the book.   
  
"I will be back, with a full review!"   
  
With that, she turned and left the room, leaving an embarrassed   
William to scowl at the closed door. 


	5. Spike The Poet?

Title: Two Weeks With William   
Author: Edith Campbell   
Section: 5   
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being   
distributed. :)   
Rating: PG 15 for language   
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?   
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers.   
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the   
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!   
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?   
Dedication: To a certain somebody, for listening to my ramblings all the time. :)   
  
******************************************************************   
'The Slayer thinks she's a martyr   
And I love her well   
But, dammit it all! She's a bitch   
And has condemned me to hell.'   
  
Buffy snorted and mumbled, "Remind me to thank Spike for that one   
later."   
  
She had been holed up in her room for five hours, having left only   
twice, once to use the bathroom, and then again to make a quick run   
to the crypt and do some more poem searching. She had to admit that   
they had been quite possibly the most interesting five hours of her   
life. She felt as though she had been given a personal glimpse into   
Spike's soul or whatever it was that made him decent, and she wasn't   
at all disgusted by what she saw. Thrilled, slightly scared, and   
confused, but not disgusted.   
  
She had made a point of mapping the progress of his poems. His   
earlier poems had been very romantic and corny and bad, and as a   
direct result, she'd used up a whole box of tissues. They'd been for   
Cecily, and not for her. His love had been different then, she   
thought. More innocent and pure.   
  
He hadn't written a thing for almost a decade after he'd been   
turned. But, in 1889, a whole new variety had shown up. They were   
dark and evilly sensual. They wreaked of mystery. They gave the   
Slayer chills. The tone didn't lighten up for a good hundred years,   
and he'd gone through seven thick books.   
  
By the time Buffy got to the books he'd used up in his years in   
Sunnydale, she was almost spent emotionally. She couldn't bring   
herself to read the ones about Angelus- she knew Spike's pain would   
be equal to hers and for some reason, she didn't want that.   
  
The ones about her came as the greatest surprise. They had started   
out stinging and vindictive (and had left Buffy thoroughly pissed off   
at the vampire), and had progressed onto mockingly light. However,   
the ones from the last year reminded her of a more bitter version of   
Cecily's poems. They were poems from a man who had loved and lost,   
and was deterred by his own experience. They caused a startling   
realization in Buffy.   
  
He really did love her.   
  
She felt like the queen of all that was slow when it hit her. How   
could she have doubted it? Spike, who was evil, and scary, and bad,   
and most certainly did not have a soul, loved her. HER. And she was   
definately not evil, scary, or bad. Most of the time, anyway.   
  
Was it vanity that slowed down the realization? Did she want to   
think that he did everything to get into her pants, because it was   
the safer thing to think? And how did it make her feel?   
  
It didn't make her feel bad.   
  
"Ick, heavy thoughts!" she grumbled, reaching for pen and paper. She   
wanted to make note of a few of Spike's shorter poems that she didn't   
understand, and demand an explanation when he returned to his   
regular, annoying self.   
  
Quickly, she wrote down the first one.   
  
'Today I know they've gone away/ I hate to be alone.'   
  
She understood the last part well enough, as she didn't exactly care   
to feel alone herself. But, she wanted to know who, and why they'd   
left, and how it had changed Spike.   
  
The second one seemed equally cryptic, if not more so.   
  
'I saw my sister today/ She wasn't 137'   
  
The third was also about his sister.   
  
'She's afraid of vampires/ Am I afraid of myself?'   
  
As she recapped her pen, Buffy felt the tiniest inklings of guilt.   
Spike's poems were very personal; she knew that much. She really had   
no right to just steal his books and give them a good read, but she   
couldn't help herself. Looking at William was effecting her, in all   
the wrong ways, and it was causing a huge appetite for Spike   
knowledge. And she knew he sure as hell wouldn't tell her what she   
wanted to know.   
  
Mentally, she was making a huge bother to differentiate between   
William and Spike, and it had her at a disadvantage. She couldn't   
bridge the gap; couldn't understand how the sweet, caring man had   
turned into something to rightfully fear. It made the fuzzy feelings   
she felt more confusing too. Were they for William? She felt them a   
lot around him. Or was it the realization that was Spike was...   
something other than the stereotype she'd shoved on him?   
  
"Leave the brooding to Angel!" Buffy commanded under her breath,   
before shoving her head under her pillow in frustration.   
  
There was a knock on her door at the exact moment, and she sat up,   
suddenly alert.   
  
"Come in!" she called.   
  
The door swung open, and Willow stuck her head in.   
  
"Hey there, Buff," she said, with a smile, "Just wanted to see if you   
were okay, and if I was still needed."   
  
"You've been here for five hours?" Buffy balked, with a small, guilty   
smile.   
  
"Longer," Willow corrected, "Came to make sure William didn't get   
extra crispy, remember?"   
  
"Shit, Wil! I'm sorry!" she exclaimed.   
  
Willow only shook her head. "Someone's looking all broody. What's   
up?"   
  
Buffy sighed, and glanced at Spike's poems. "Reading Spike's poems   
gives you a real headache."   
  
"That bad, huh?" Then, "Spike's POEMS?"   
  
"Yeah. Don't tell Xander. Spike'll be mad enough already when he   
finds out I stole them."   
  
"Secret's safe with me!" Willow declared, sitting on Buffy's bed, "So   
did you find out anything juicy?"   
  
Buffy snorted. "Other than the fact that our vampire has serious   
needy issues, nada."   
  
"Needy issues?"   
  
"Yeah. He has an obsession with being wanted. Kinda weird."   
  
"Do you want him?"   
  
"What!" Buffy gasped. There was an issue she wanted to avoid like   
the plague. She didn't even want to think of how sexy he looked in   
his duster, or the way his jeans hugged his ass- which was a very   
nice ass-, or how very blue his eyes really were- and whoa! Enough   
of those thoughts.   
  
Willow laughed. "Do you want him AROUND? I mean, I know before you   
NEEDED him around... but do you want him?"   
  
Buffy chuckled. "I don't know. Ugh- do I have to admit it, or can   
this be one of those unspoken things?"   
  
"He was a mess when you died, Buffy. I mean, we all were, but with   
Spike..." Willow trailed off, saddened by the memory. "He went   
crazy. If it weren't for Dawn, I think he would have dusted himself."   
  
There was a bit of an awkward silence before Willow stood up. "I   
should really get going."   
  
"Thanks for everything, Wil," Buffy smiled up at her.   
  
"No prob!"   
  
With that, the redheaded witch turned and left. Buffy lazily grabbed   
a book, and opened it. She was surprised when a piece of looseleaf   
fell onto her lap. Carefully she unfolded it. The cursive was messy   
and drunken, but clearly Spike's. She began to read.   
  
"For Buffy," she read aloud, "A poem by Percy Shelley, who I believe   
is a real pillock for what he did to his first wife... bloody good   
poet though!"   
  
"Music, When Soft Voices Die," she continued. "Music, when soft   
voices die/ Vibrates in the memory --/ Odours, when sweet violets   
sicken/ Live within the sense they quicken. / Rose leaves, when the   
rose is dead/ Are heap'd for the beloved's bed;/ And so thy thoughts   
when thou are gone/ Love itself shall slumber on."   
  
Something unusual flooded through Buffy, and she was on her feet and   
out her door almost immediately. She needed to see Spike that   
instant- needed to see William. Needed to see the man behind the   
poems.   
  
She burst through the door, and stood before the surprised vampire.   
  
"Miss Summers?" he stammered, "Did you find them... awful?"   
  
"God, no!" And then she did the unthinkable. She raced forward,   
wrapped her arms around William's neck, and proceeded to give him the   
sweetest, most tender kiss she could imagine.   
  
When she pulled away, William was stuttering and hypothetically   
blushing. She kissed him again. She couldn't help herself.   
  
"Thank you, William," she murmured, stepping back and away from   
him, "Thank you for... well, I guess not dying when you... erm...   
died?"   
  
William stepped towards her again, and she recognized the predatory   
stare in his eyes. He didn't stop walking until he was right in   
front of her, crowding into her space in typical Spike fashion.   
  
His voice was a low growl when he replied, "I love you, Slayer."   
  
Both he and Buffy stepped back in surprise, and William felt his   
mouth fall open.   
  
Timidly, Buffy asked, "Spike? Hello? You in there?"   
  
The vampire before her just looked confused and flabbergasted. "I'm   
sorry, Buffy! I-I don't know what came over me. I just... I just   
felt that you were a Slayer, and that- something in me... Well, I   
honestly don't know what happened."   
  
Neither, quite frankly, did the Slayer. She did know, however, that   
her sweet kiss tally with Spike was now up from one to three. She   
laughed uneasily.   
  
"Ha, must be the poetry." 


	6. Matters Of The Heart pt 1

Title: Two Weeks With William  
Author: Edith Campbell  
Section: 6  
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being   
distributed. :)  
Rating: PG 15 for language  
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?   
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers.  
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the   
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!  
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?  
**Author's Notes: Ummm... okay, this part at the beginning, the ===   
are used to represent different sequences. In my head, it's like the   
huge scan of events at the beginning of 'The Gift'. Please assume   
that everything that happened between each of the == William has   
remembered, and I just didn't feel like typing out most of the 2nd   
season. :)  
  
******************************************************************  
  
====  
The beautiful dark haired girl in his head was swaying.   
Hypnotically, she rocked back and forth, massaging her temples, and   
mumbling.   
  
"I can't see her. The Slayer. I can't see." Suddenly, her head   
snapped up, and she looked him straight in the eye. Her voice was   
slightly pleading and airy when she added, "It's dark where she is.   
Kill her. Kill her, Spike. Kill her for me?"  
  
He smiled lewdly at her, and shrugged, as if the task she asked him   
to complete was no harder than merely squashing a bug. "It's done,   
baby."  
  
"Kill her for princess?" Her eyes were innocently wide, and she   
needed reassurance.  
  
He gave it to her. "I'll chop her into messes."  
  
Visibly, his evil princess relaxed. "You are my sweet... my little   
Spike."  
  
====  
She was a better fighter than he had bargained on. Watching from the   
shadows, he saw her easily hold off his minions until her whelp of a   
had fetched a stake from inside. She was good, he acknowledged. But   
he was confident that she wasn't THAT good. After all, he WAS   
William the Bloody...  
  
Mockingly, he began to clap. The Slayer whipped her head around,   
scowling. She was still on the defensive, he noted.   
  
"Nice work, love."  
  
The blonde looked confused and very annoyed. "Who are you?"  
  
"You'll find out Saturday," he strung her along, wishing he'd grabbed   
a bloody cigarette instead of clapping.   
  
She sounded boredly indifferent when she said, "What happens   
Saturday?"  
  
He took care to make his tone ooze sensuality. "I kill you."  
  
====  
  
He wasn't going to look at her. He was ashamed of what he had   
become. He hated being helpless.  
  
"Come on, love. You need to eat something to keep your strength up.   
Now, open for Mummy..."  
  
He turned to look at her then, suddenly furious. Loudly, he   
roared, "I won't have you feeding me like a child, Dru!"  
  
"Why not? She already bathes you, carries you around, and changes you   
like a child."  
  
Oh, great. As though his night wasn't bad enough already...  
  
He watched his lover's face light up as she scurried to greet her   
sire. It took all the restraint he'd learned over his years in the   
night to not give into the pure rage and jealousy that coursed   
through him, begging him to do their bidding.  
  
"My Angel! Where have you been? The sun is almost up, and it can be   
so hurtful. We were worried."  
  
"No, we weren't," he retorted, angrily.   
  
Dru sent him a look, and turned back to Angel. "You must forgive   
Spike. He's just a bit testy tonight. Doesn't get out much anymore."   
  
His grandsire sneered at him. "Well, maybe next time I'll bring you   
with me, Spike. Might be handy to have you along if I ever need a   
really good parking space."  
  
That was it. That, to Spike, was the straw that broke the soddin'   
camel's back. He shouted, "Have you forgotten that you're a bloody   
guest in my bloody home?!"  
  
"And as a guest, if there's anything I can do for you... any   
responsibility I can assume while you spin your wheels..." He paused to   
leer at Dru. "...anything I'm not already doing, that is..."  
  
Spike fought for control. He hated his bloody grandsire, he hated   
Dru, he hated his chair, and he DESPISED that bitch of a blonde   
Slayer who would just not let him finish her off.   
  
====  
William sat up in bed, panting wildly. He kicked off the covers in   
one smooth move, flew to the middle of the room, and crouched in a   
defensive fighting position that he had no idea he even knew. Rage   
coursed through his veins. He was so angry at that... bitch that he   
was dizzy with it. Never before in his life had he been that   
passionately furious... that enraged... He suddenly reminded himself   
of his uncle.  
  
Wide-eyed, he relaxed his stance, and looked around the room. It was   
empty, save for him, and he felt surprised, despite himself. What   
had he expected? The hypnotically beautiful woman who called herself   
Drusilla to be standing around, hanging off that white-blond man-   
hanging off of Spike? He shivered at the memory of what he knew that   
man had felt for her. HE had felt it, almost as clearly as if those   
were his own feelings. He had been consumed by her. She was his   
world, his very existence.  
  
And then there was Buffy. Panic filled him. He had wanted to kill   
her! He had more than wanted to kill her. He had been obsessed with   
it! Buffy! The sweet, wonderful woman who had kissed him last   
night. He smiled softly, at the memory, despite it all.  
  
"Calm down, William," he snapped, annoyed, "Get your bloody wits   
together. It wasn't as though that was YOU. It was... Spike?"   
  
Visibly disturbed, he sat down and shook his head. He couldn't stay   
here much longer. The place was making him go daft. What he needed   
was a good stroll through the streets of London, and a strong pint of   
ale. Or two. Right. All he had to do was get away from Sunnydale,   
and book himself passage on the next ship leaving for England.  
  
"Easy enough," he assured himself, although he was doubtful. He had   
never traveled alone before, but he doubted that it could be that   
hard. His father had done it.   
  
Quickly, he formulated the plan. He would write ahead to Kitty, and   
request that she send a coach to the docks once he knew when he'd   
arrive. Then, he would send an apology letter to Pinkertons, and   
explain that he really could take care of himself. Perhaps he'd even   
write to Buffy. Maybe once things had settled down, she could join   
him in London and... He felt his cheeks flame.   
  
Good. All he needed was a map, and he'd be on his way.  
  
"Oh, bloody hell!" he declared, heading for the bedroom door.   
  
He was just about to open it, when somebody else did. He nearly   
smacked into the petite Slayer, and she jumped back in surprise.  
  
"I brought you breakfast," she said, holding out a steaming cup of...   
something for him to take. She made a point of not looking at him,   
as the memory of their sweet little kiss was all too fresh in her   
mind.  
  
He took it hesitantly, peered inside, and almost grimaced when he saw   
what it was. Willow had given him a cup of the clear liquid   
yesterday, and he'd sipped it nicely, although inside he was   
gagging. Whatever it was had an awful, coppery taste, and it took   
all of his manners not to spit it out. As it was, it had taken a lot   
of effort for him to say, "Mmm, this is bloody good, Miss Rosenberg!"   
The redhead had chuckled and muttered something about 'bloody good'   
being a fantastic pun. He thought she'd taken the god-awful stuff   
with her.  
  
"Bottoms up!" he said, with false enthusiasm. In one gulp, he   
drained the cup, and handed it back to Buffy. "What is that stuff?"  
  
Somehow, Buffy didn't think telling him it was magically disguised   
blood would go over well. "Umm... a drink. All vitaminy and mmm!"  
  
"Oh," he replied lamely, thinking it was the exact opposite of 'mmm'   
indeed.  
  
Buffy laughed at him and his poor attempt to hide his disgust.   
Impulsively, she grabbed his arm.  
  
"C'mon downstairs. My sister and I are just eating now. You can   
come too."  
  
"A-are you enjoying that particular beverage?" He pointed at the cup.  
  
She smiled. "Nope. No vitamins for us!"  
  
Pure relief flooded through him.  
  
****  
Dawn shifted her weight anxiously and waited for her sister to bring   
Spike downstairs. He was all she'd heard about for the last three   
days, and she couldn't wait to meet his human counterpart. She was   
sure he'd be cool.  
  
She could hear them coming, so she sat up straight, and leaned   
forward.  
  
William gasped loudly when he saw the girl sitting at the table.   
Excitedly, he turned to Buffy, and before he could catch himself,   
pulled her into a hug.  
  
"You brought me the lil' bit!" He laughed loudly. "I thought you said   
she couldn't come!"  
  
And then, before Dawn or Buffy had a real chance to gage what had   
happened, William ran forward, and gathered Dawn up into his arms.   
Dawn, who was pleased that she was the only person he seemed to   
remember but confused over the happy reunion, tentatitively gave him   
a squeeze.   
  
"How did you like your ship?" he asked, looking at her   
excitedly, "Did you travel well? How's Mum? Did they bring her   
too? Surely you haven't traveled without an escort?"   
  
Dawn exchanged a look with Buffy and said, "Allow me to sum this all   
up with a really, really, REALLY big 'huh'?"  
  
It was William's turn to look confused. "Kitty?"  
  
Buffy suddenly rushed forward. She put her arm around Dawn and   
said, "This is my sister, Dawn Summers. Dawn, William Wyndham."  
  
"Dawn Summers?!" And suddenly, William looked impossibly   
embarrassed. Quickly he stepped back and looked at his shoes. "How   
embarrassing, do forgive me. It's just that you look an awful lot   
like my sister, Katherine."  
  
"Hey, don't worry about it," Dawn replied, going back to her chair.   
  
Buffy pointed at one for William, and the two of them sat, as well.  
  
"So, we look exactly alike, huh?" Dawn asked, curious.   
  
"Well..." William paused and looked at her carefully. "Not exactly,   
now that I'm really looking at you. Her eyes are a different colour,   
and you are taller. I believe she's older though. She gets a season   
next summer, if I can sponsor her."  
  
"A season?" Buffy asked, "What? Summer, winter, autumn, spring, and   
Kitty?"  
  
William sent her a funny look. "Do young women not have seasons   
here? Well, nevermind then."  
  
"I'd love to meet your sister," Dawn piped up.  
  
"Thank you," he replied, casually pushing the food on his plate   
around with his fork. He wasn't hungry, which was odd enough, since   
he couldn't remember the last meal he'd eaten. He decided he wasn't   
hungry now due to the fright Dawn had given him. That was enough to   
chase any man's appetite away. Politely, he tried to forget his own   
worries and lonely feelings, and focused on the story Dawn was   
telling.  
  
"...And then the cash register just exploded! BOOM! And Willow was   
really embarrassed, because she didn't mean to, and you should have   
seen Anya trying to save the money! And Giles had gone to   
investigate something with Spike, right, and when they saw it, Spike   
was all-"  
  
"Spike?" William interrupted, suddenly interested.  
  
Buffy regarded him warily. She had called him Spike before, and he   
had not reacted overly much, so she couldn't imagine why he'd choose   
now to make a big Spike speech.  
  
"Yeah, Spike. A... er... friend of ours."  
  
"A friend?" William looked like he was about to choke on his mouthful   
of food.  
  
"Well, yeah," Dawn took over, "I mean, at first he was all 'Grrr',   
but once he laid off the pointy teeth, he wasn't at all bad. I like   
him."  
  
"Speak for yourself," Buffy murmured.  
  
"You don't like him?" William breathed a sigh of relief. At least   
one of them knew that he wanted to kill them.  
  
"Well..." she sighed.  
  
"Buffy!" Dawn implored, annoyed.  
  
"Okay, fine, I like him. Happy now?"  
  
William nodded, and tried to figure out what to say. When he   
couldn't think of anything, he went back to pushing his peas with his   
fork. At last, the meal was over, and he excused himself. He had   
every intention of sitting on Buffy's porch, and getting some fresh   
air. It would clear his head.  
  
Buffy watched his retreating form with a sigh.   
  
"I think he's remembering," she told her sister.  
  
"I think so too," Dawn said, "He looked really upset when we called   
Spike our friend."  
  
"Your friend," Buffy corrected effortlessly. Dawn rolled her eyes.   
She was used to her sister's denial. "I think I'm going to go out   
and see what's up with him. Can you handle the dishes?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," the brunette girl replied, dismissing her sister with a   
noncommital shooing gesture.  
  
Buffy laughed, and went to find William.  
  
****  
  
He smelt her vanilla perfume before he saw her. Sighing, he debated   
whether or not to acknowledge her presence and sacrifice his time   
alone. Before he could even complete the thought and open his mouth,   
Buffy had plopped down on the steps beside him.  
  
"Hey," she said.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
William graced her with a shy, sweet smile. "Talk about what, Buffy?"  
  
Buffy shrugged, drawing her knees up to her chest and gazing out into   
the night. It felt so... weird not to be patrolling, but she just   
couldn't bring herself to leave the house tonight. She gazed   
expectantly at William.  
  
"You know. Whatever it is that's giving you the wiggins."  
  
William's eyes widened. Something had given him the wiggins.   
Feeling an inkling of panic, he grabbed Buffy's arm.  
  
"The wiggins? How did I bloody catch it? Should I be seeing a   
doctor?"  
  
"A doctor? The hell?" The expression on his face was too much for   
her, and she chuckled softly. "No, no. That's... umm... what's   
been... oh hell, do you have anything you want to tell me or not?   
Because I have tonight off, and there are a lot of things I'd rather   
be doing than sitting out here." Right, she added mentally. Because   
the laundry that needed folding was just SO much better than this...  
  
The silence was deafening, and William frantically searched for   
something to say. There was no way in hell that he was going to tell   
the blonde beside him that he'd been having bloody nightmares about   
some bloke named Spike. She'd probably send him off to the insane   
asylum in mere minutes.   
  
Firmly, he decided not to mention Spike.  
  
"So, tell me about Spike." This was followed by a harsh, mental kick.  
  
Buffy wasn't surprised at the question. She'd been expecting it, more   
or less.   
  
"What do you want to know about the bleached wonder?" she asked,   
picking at her fingernail.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," he replied, "What do you want to tell me?"  
  
"There's not much to say. Came here with his girlfriend- and let me   
tell you, was SHE a crazy bitch!- shacked up with a bunch of nasties,   
and decided we were going to be mortal enemies. Actually, I decided   
that. His girlfriend got down with my boyfriend, we broke them up,   
he left Sunnydale and that's that. And is it just me, or did that   
whole story seem like a really huge understatement?"  
  
"Until he came back," William said, wisely.  
  
"Until he came back," Buffy echoed, deciding instead to gaze at her   
shoe. "Turns out Dru dumped his ass for a chaos de- dentist. Had   
better teeth than Spike. Not so pointy, and yeah. So, see, he gets   
friendly with a bunch of government guys-" she paused to snort- "and   
then... they... errr... knocked some sense into him. So Spike's   
playing on our side now, and no more mortal enemies."  
  
"So you are friends?" ventured the vampire.  
  
"Oh please! Like anything could ever be THAT simple with Spike. Oh   
no, he has to go and fall in love with me. Can you believe it? I   
sure couldn't! Especially with his less than casual 'get the girl'   
routine. Majorly weird. But then..." She paused for a   
moment. "But see, then Mom... died, and Dawn and I got into some...   
ummm... trouble. And Spike was really, really helpful. More than   
some of my friends. And you know, how can you hate that?"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes at her confession. Of all people to confess   
that she didn't utterly loathe Spike's existence to.   
  
William turned so he could face her, and tried to figure out her   
emotions by looking into her eyes. They were totally unreadable, so   
he went out on a limb.  
  
"Buffy, may I ask you a personal question?"  
  
Uh oh. Personal questions coming from Spike- or his more... human   
counterpart- were never a good thing. She swallowed, nervously.  
  
"Umm, shoot."  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
Buffy paused, choking on disbelief. Then she burst out laughing.  
  
"Love him??? Are you kidding me?"  
  
William looked sheepish, but he didn't back down. Instead, he   
grabbed Buffy by the chin and forced her to look at him. She   
squirmed under his very blue gaze, and tried her hardest to look   
away, but his hand wouldn't let her. At last, he smiled.  
  
"Ahh... there it is. That swoony look. Bloody hell, you've got it   
bad!"  
  
Buffy snorted, and wrenched her chin away. "T-that SWOONY look? I   
have a swoony look? Please. This is so not a swoony look."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Touchy subject, I see. And you do so have one."  
  
"Okay, I think that maybe you need glasses, or a doctor. Yes, you   
need a doctor badly."  
  
His reply was much more serious than Buffy had counted on. He took a   
deep breath, and slowly said, "I must warn you of something...   
unpleasant."  
  
Buffy groaned, but gave him her full attention.  
  
Suddenly nervous, William took his time in replying.   
  
"Well, Buffy, you see there is something about Spike that you do not   
know. He-he... He wants to kill you."  
  
Buffy felt momentarily let down. She had thought for a second that   
William was going to let her in on some juicy memory. She had   
apparently been wrong. She got ready to laugh off his warning, but   
stopped when she saw that he was looking at her as though his news   
had broken her heart. She smiled softly.  
  
"He did. A long time ago," she said.  
  
"You can love somebody who wanted to kill you?"  
  
"Hey, Victorian boy, this so isn't love! But once again, with Spike,   
so not that simple. Umm... how can I explain this? We here at...   
Pinkertons suspected Spike of this really awful crime, so he was...   
on the run from us. But his girlfriend, the crazy one, tricked him   
into thinking we were bad, and to avenge his honour... Spike and I   
were going to... duel," she finished lamely.  
  
William obviously did not buy her story. Slowly, he said, "I thought   
you said that a bunch of chaps from the government got ahold of him   
and talked some sense into him?"  
  
She laughed nervously. "So I did. Can we talk about something else   
pleeease? Spike is such a depressing subject."  
  
He conceded with a withering sigh. "Fine. Tell me about your   
mother."  
  
"My mother?" Buffy repeated, dumbly. That was something she wasn't   
ready to discuss quite yet. "I thought we were going to talk about   
you. Why don't you tell me about your mother."  
  
====  
  
Spike, for the first time in his unlife, was glad that it was   
raining, as the clouds prevented the direct sunlight from having its   
merry way with him. He had gotten slightly sodden walking- or   
sneaking, rather- over to the cemetary, but the trees surrounding the   
graves gave him a bit of a shelter. He leaned against a tree and   
wished he could say the same thing about the crowd gathered around   
the freshly buried coffin. Or, at least about Kitty. He didn't give   
a damn if the rest of the onlookers bloody froze to death.  
  
The rain was beginning to get to the small crowd, which was rather   
disappointing. He'd hoped to go collect Angel, Darla, and Dru and   
have himself a real good meal... after Kitty left, of course.   
Naturally, he'd have to come up with a good story, or else Angel   
would probably want to go find her and make supper out of her   
anyway.   
  
Well, he could do that over Spike's undead body.  
  
Idly, he wondered what his good ol' grandsire would think if he knew   
why he was in the cemetary. Somehow, he didn't think saying, "I went   
to my mum's bleedin' funeral because she was a real good mum, and I   
loved her" would go over well. They'd all assume he'd gone soft, or   
daft. But, that was the truth of the matter. He had loved his   
mother.  
  
And so, he knew, had Kitty. Dumbly, he reminded himself that she was   
going as Katherine now, and was no longer even a Wyndham. She'd   
married John Blakeley, if he remembered the announcement in the   
newspaper correctly. He'd never met John, but watching the two of   
them, he knew he loved his sister and was pleased. He remembered   
vaguely how long Kitty had fancied herself in love with Andrew   
Coleman, and shuddered. Now there was a real pillock.   
  
Finally, the last mourner turned and left, and Spike vacated his spot   
behind the tree. Calling on his newfound cocky attitude, he   
swaggered towards the grave and stopped at the headstone.  
  
Beloved Mother  
Emily Ashley Wyndham  
1835-1895  
  
"Well, guess this is goodbye, Mum," he told the stone. "Sorry I   
didn't come and visit. Didn't imagine you'd like the new me. But,   
hey. At least I didn't marry Cecily- stupid bint. Know you hated   
her. But, I wanted to say, you raised me good and proper, and I   
loved you."  
  
Then, hit with a emotions that made him feel like a bleedin' poof, he   
blew the grave a kiss, and literally ran from the cemetary.  
  
He did not see the young woman clad in black step out from behind   
another grave. For a moment, she stood with her hand to her mouth,   
utterly confused, and watched the man's retreat with large blue eyes.   
Quickly, she glanced at a tombstone partly hidden by another.  
  
"In loving memory of William Wyndham," she read outloud, "Died 1880."  
  
It couldn't be, not possibly. But that man...  
  
She shook her head, but could not erase the thought from her mind.  
  
"John, love!" she cried, suddenly nervous, "Do wait for me. It's been a trying day,   
and I do believe I just saw William!"  
  
====  
  
"What is it?" Buffy asked, responding to the ashen look on William's   
face. Before she could think, she had grabbed his hand in hers and   
was squeezing it tightly. "What's wrong?"  
  
William laughed uneasily, and shook his head. Then, he looked down   
at his hand entwined with the Slayer's, and felt his heart expand.   
He swallowed. Hard.  
  
"Nothing is the matter. I just... I just thought Mum died in 1895 is   
all, but that's bloody stupid. It's only 1880."  
  
"Yeah. Right. It's 1880."   
  
Still clutching his hand, Buffy continued to look out into the night,   
comforted again by Spike's- or William's- presense. 


	7. The Stereo Of Doom

Title: Two Weeks With William Author: Edith Campbell Section: 6 Relationship: Spike/Buffy Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister). Those are mine. :) The song I used in this chapter belongs to Pete Dodds. Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being distributed. :) Rating: PG 15 for language Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How? Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers. Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!! Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'? Dedication: This chapter goes out to my mom, Jemma, Stacey, and Gillian, for all of their kindness and support.   
  
**********************************************************************  
  
"How are things going with you and Sp- William?" Willow asked, leaning back on her chair in the Magic Box's training room. She'd been sitting there for the last hour, watching her best friend train.  
  
The Slayer, who was breathing heavily with exertion, stopped her assault on the punching bag. She turned to the witch and swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand.  
  
"Fine," she replied, slowly, "Why do you ask?"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "It's just that we've been in here for an hour, and we've talked about everything else. I'm curious. So spill the beans."  
  
"There aren't any beans to spill." Buffy paused slightly, giving the punching bag a real good kick. Mentally, she recapped the last day with William, and kicked it again- harder. Then, she spun around to face Willow, waving her arms about in desperation. "He said I have swoony eyes!"  
  
"Sw-swoony eyes?" she repeated, "For who? William?"  
  
"No, for Spike." Buffy punctuated her statement by making immature gagging noises.   
  
"Spike thinks you're having fuzzy feelings for Spike?" Willow smiled patiently, and then laughed.  
  
"What? This isn't funny! William thinks I love Spike!" Buffy restated, "So not rating high on the amusement scale, Wil!"  
  
Sternly, Willow pressed her lips together. "I know, and I'm sorry. But just think about it and it's so... weird."  
  
The Slayer did think about it, and then shook her head. "Do you think William could be breaking into Spike's thoughts and they're influencing how he thinks?"  
  
The witch shrugged. "Could be, I guess. But then again, Buff, Spike is quite perceptive. William probably is, too."   
  
Buffy gawked at her friend for a moment. Then, she ran about to her and looked her straight in the eyes. "Do YOU think I have swoony eyes?"  
  
Gently, Willow pushed her away and patted the seat next to her. "I don't know, Buffy. If you want, I could do a spell and see. Go into your subconscious like before."  
  
Buffy considered this for a moment. That, she brooded, would put an end to Spike's big "there's something between us" theory. Providing Willow didn't find anything warm and fuzzy. Unfortunately, Buffy was afraid there was a possibility of Willow finding just that.  
  
"Ugh, Wil! Having William around is not of the good!" she whined, smacking her head in protest against the wall. "I mean, Spike told me he'd always been bad. Raised on the streets. A fighter. I can't believe he lied to me! When that chipped idiot comes back to himself I'm gonna-"  
  
"Going to what, Buffy?" Willow rolled her eyes.  
  
"And you wanna know what's the worst?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"He loves his sister and his mom. Like, really loves them."  
  
"And you assumed he'd eaten them?"  
  
"Well, yeah. I mean, Angelus did," she paused, "Wil, there is one thing you can do for me, though."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Can you see how long they lived for? Like, on the internet or something? Just to make sure he... didn't?"  
  
"Sure." The witch smiled warmly at her friend. "So, William bored out of his mind yet?"  
  
"Nah," Buffy replied, shaking her head, "I don't think he's bored at all."  
  
***  
  
William was sure he'd never been so stir crazy in his whole entire life. Even the time when he and his childhood best friend, Jacob Richards, had gotten themselves locked in the coal bin for six hours didn't come close to this. At least then his father had found them eventually, and had released them to play with only a small lecture about being where they shouldn't be. Who was to find him here? Murderers, if Buffy Summers and her friends were to be believed. He shook his head and supressed a shudder, before crossing to the window. It was covered by thick beige curtains, and he'd been warned that he wasn't to open it during the day under any circumstances. Something about his own safety. He shook his head, fingering the own material. He was his own man, and nobody had the right to take away his sunshine. Nodding, he made a move to open it.  
  
Something inside of him- something basic and instinctive- stopped him. A sense of self-preservation hit him, and he returned moodily to the bed.  
  
" 'Twas way up in Brummagem so I do hear say, A boat by the name of the Rosemary lay. She was clothed up and painted in traditional style, But she hadn't carried for a very long while," he sang softly, getting to his feet, and pacing the room (again).  
  
He stopped at the counter opposite the bed and lightly began to finger the ornaments that decorated it. There was a figurine of a young woman holding a cat that he thought his sister would have liked, and it made him smile.  
  
"Along came a boatman, the old boat to see, Says he 'Here's a craft that is useful to me. I'll load her with coal and for London I'll steer', Said the boatman to the owner, 'If I take her from here'."  
  
He moved away from the figurines to stand before a square black box sitting on the left side of the counter. Cautiously, he hunched before it and gave it a quizzical poke. He wondered what it was. William was willing to bet it was top secret Pinkerton equipment. Then he noticed a row of neat little buttons, marked 'Play', 'Rewind', 'Fast Foward', 'Pause', 'Stop', and 'Record.' Still humming distractedly, he peered at them.  
  
"The owner said 'Yes' and the boatman 'Okay' And into the cabin he went straightaway. He lit up the stove, cleaned cobwebs and mould, And polished the beam 'til it shone like fine gold."  
  
The 'Play' button's allure was too much for the vampire to take. Carefully, he reached forward and pressed it. Then, William the Bloody, slayer of two slayers, and feared by many, jumped back and screamed bloody murder.  
  
It took Buffy, who had returned home twenty minutes earlier, mere seconds to run up to the spare bedroom, worry fluttering within her heart.   
  
"William? Are you okay?" she yelled, ripping open the door, "I thought I told you not to open the blinds! Somebody might-"  
  
The sight before her stopped her short. William was hovering on the bed, staring suspiciously at her old radio, which was now turned on and blaring her sister's Live CD. He looked as though he suspected it would bite. Buffy bit back a laugh.  
  
Relieved to find out he wasn't alone, William whipped his head in Buffy's direction.   
  
"What in the bleedin' hell is that?" he cried, scared out of his usual politeness, "The soddin' thing is-is YELLING at me!"  
  
Still chuckling softly, the Slayer crossed to the radio and stopped the CD. She then smiled uneasily at the vampire.  
  
"It's nothing, just Pinkertons' equipment," she lied, with a winning smile.  
  
William felt his heart skip a beat at her smile. Then he remembered his anger.  
  
"What's it doing here? Are you purposely trying to scare me to death?"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "A little late to scare you to death."  
  
There was an awkward silence as Buffy moved the radio into the closet, and William came down from his frightened high. He sat for a moment, embarrassed. Then, he softly asked, "How does that thing work?"  
  
Buffy snorted. Like she was going to explain how a radio worked to somebody from a time that had just discovered lightbulbs. Plus, she wasn't sure of the technicalities.  
  
"I don't know. Classified," she said, "Why don't I get you a book or something?"  
  
William sighed. "Not really up to reading, thank you. I was wondering, however... I was thinking about t-taking a stroll, and perhaps... that is would you... would you like to accompany me?" He looked up at her and smiled shyly.  
  
This time it was Buffy's heart that skipped a beat. She had never seen such a soft, unsure smile on Spike's face and it was doing funny things to her. Inanely, she grinned back.  
  
"I-I'd love to." And then she realized what he'd asked. "Oh! But I can't."  
  
"Why?" Despite his attempt, he couldn't hide his disappointment.  
  
"It's still light out. Do you want to be burnt to a crisp?"  
  
"Burnt to a crisp?" He smiled wryly. "It's just sun, Buffy."  
  
"Oh... right, you're not Spike," she muttered to herself. Louder, she added, "For your protection. From those murderers."  
  
Frustration welled up in him. He'd be damned if he had to sit in that bloody room for one more day. "Is there something I can do?"  
  
"Are you bored?" she asked, amused.  
  
"For Heaven's sakes, no... well, slightly. Which isn't to say you aren't a good host! You are doing a bloody good job, it's just that-"  
  
"You're bored. It's okay, I get that. I just don't know what..." A metaphorical light bulb lit up in Buffy's head and she snapped her fingers. "You stay here. I'll be right back with the fun!"  
  
With that, she left his room, and ran to her own. She picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number. Within seconds, Anya had answered.  
  
"Hello?" she asked.   
  
"Hi, Ahn," Buffy said, twirling the cord, "How would you all feel about a Victorian party?" 


	8. Matters Of The Heart pt 2

Title: Two Weeks With William  
Author: Edith Campbell  
Section: 8  
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being   
distributed. :)  
Rating: PG 15 for language  
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?   
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers. Oh, and   
in this chapter and the next one (especially), pretty much the whole   
entire series is game.  
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the   
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!  
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?  
Dedication: Blaine. All the sweetness is for you.   
  
**********************************************************************  
  
Buffy Summers, one of the world's best Slayers, was about to be offed   
for a third time. She had already faced death twice, once to water   
and once to a hell-bitch (as Spike had dubbed her) bent on getting   
home, but this time, she thought it would be final. This time, she   
was forced to deal with something that had plagued womankind for   
centuries.  
  
A corset.   
  
"No way!" she cried, backing up against the wall of her bedroom and   
waving her arms frantically at Anya, who was rapidly advancing with   
the offending garment, "There's no way I'm putting that on!"  
  
"You have to," Willow argued, from her seat on the bed. She, Tara,   
and Anya had already changed into their Victorian style dresses-   
complete with bustles and corsets- and were impatiently waiting for   
the Slayer to put on hers. "The dress won't fit without it. And   
Anya got these off of E-Bay. They're authentic."  
  
"And they were expensive," the ex-demon nodded, waving the awful   
whale-boned contraption for emphasis.  
  
Buffy titled up her chin and smacked into the wall behind her. Her   
bustle collapsed upon impact, causing her to temporarily lose her   
footing. When she'd regained it, she crossed her arms over her   
chemise and gave her three determined friends her best Slayer look.  
  
"No."  
  
"Buffy-" Willow started.  
  
"No."  
  
It was Anya's turn to try. "17 inch waists were fashionable. Trust   
me, I was there. William would find it attra-"  
  
"Spike never cared if I had a 17 inch waist," she retorted, "And no!"  
  
"Buffy, the dress w-won't fit," quiet Tara repeated, earning a smile   
from Willow.  
  
"NO!!!" This was empathic, and was accompanied by a foot stomp.  
  
"Willow," Anya pleaded, turning to look at the witch. Nodding in   
agreement with the ex-demon, Willow began to chant and a moment   
later, Buffy was held in the middle of the room by magic.   
  
"That's so cheating, Wils!" she cried, using all her Slayer strength   
to fight the barrier. It didn't budge, and soon Anya and the corset   
were upon her.  
  
And soon, the Slayer couldn't breath.  
  
"This... isn't... worth... it," she gasped, struggling with her   
dress. That, she had to admit, was quite pretty. It was an   
attractive light blue, with a white, lacey bodice. She softly   
slipped it on, struggling awkwardly all the while, and then turned so   
the other girls could fight the small hooks running up the back.  
  
"You get used to it in a minute," Anya assured, before smiling   
lewdly, "And they're fun to take off. This one time, Xander and I-"  
  
"If Spike finds out we played dress up for him, his ego is going to   
like... explode, and he's going to be sooo hard to live with," Buffy   
muttered, giving Anya a pointed look.  
  
Willow shrugged. "If he remembers this at all. Which he probably   
won't. Shall we go down? Kinda looking forward to seeing Xander   
done up all Victorian-y."  
  
Taking one last glance in her mirror, Buffy smoothed out the fabric   
of her dress and nodded. It was time to face the music.  
  
**  
William was fighting off one hell of a headache, but he was battling   
with it valiantly. He had hidden himself off in the very corner of   
the Summers' living room, and was suspiciously watching the young   
brown haired man fiddle with one of Buffy's newfangled 'music' (and   
he used the term loosely) machines. He was shy to associate with   
him, as he felt too many bloody things looking at him. William   
didn't mind him, but something inside of him- something he couldn't   
quite place- found him rather annoying, in a fond way, and he had an   
overwhelming urge to hassle him mercilessly.  
  
That, on top of the dream he had last night, was proving to be a bit   
much. He couldn't remember it as clearly as the others, but he   
recalled every emotion he'd felt in it perfectly. Every emotion   
SPIKE had felt in it, he stressed mentally, shaking his head. Such   
an intense desperation. His dark princess had left him for a soddin'   
chaos demon. He didn't know what in the hell those were, but   
really... how dare she! Spike had cared for her- he had LOVED her-   
for a century, and... William found himself quaking with anger and   
hurt. He shook his head slowly and ran a hand through his hair,   
which was now rather unruly, as he had been repeating the gesture all   
night.  
  
He returned his gaze to the brunette- Xander, he remembered- and   
sighed. Spike had kidnapped Xander and Willow after Dru's little   
triste, he recalled. But his heart hadn't been in it. His heart had   
been broken.  
  
Xander looked up from the stereo and caught William scowling at him.   
It put him off a little bit, as Spike's alter ego seemed to be quite   
quiet and nice. The scowl reminded him far too much of the bleached   
wonder.   
  
"So..." Xander said, straigtening and shoving his hands in his   
pockets awkwardly. He didn't quite know what to say Spike. Somehow,   
teasing didn't seem appropriate. However, when Spike came back... Xander smiled  
mercilessly.  
  
There was something about William that reminded Xander of he and   
Willow, in high school. Xander was willing to bet a lot of money   
that he hadn't ranked high on the popularity list back home.   
  
"Looking forward to seeing our ladies done up all nice?"  
  
William nodded enthusiastically and smiled. "Buffy especially.   
She's very pretty, isn't she?"  
  
Ahhh, thought Xander, so William had been bitten by the Buffy bug   
too. Outloud, he replied, "Yeah, she is. But I can't wait to see   
Anya."  
  
"She is lovely, too," William assured, "A-are Willow and Tara..."  
  
"They're together, yeah," Xander replied, warily watching William.   
He knew Spike had no problem with that, but William was different.   
William was old fashioned, and Xander was ready to defend his best   
friend.  
  
William was quiet for a moment, no doubt struggling with his   
Victorian way of life. At last, just before Xander was about to jump   
in and give it to him, he said, "They really are quite nice. And do   
look most happy together. They definitely love each other. Can't   
say that about everybody."  
  
Xander relaxed visibly and nodded. "They are. And no you can't."  
  
An awkward silence was impending, making both men nervous. They were   
both about to attempt to end it, when the soft rustle of approacing   
skirts did it for them. Xander took in a breath and let it out in   
one low whistle, before moving to Anya's side.  
  
William, for his part, gawked. He had to remind himself to shut his   
mouth, as he was sure he looked like a bleedin' fool. He didn't have   
the willpower to look away.  
  
"Miss Summers," he breathed, forgetting to call her Buffy in his   
astonishment, "You look absolutely... beautiful."  
  
William was sure he'd never meant anything more. The blue dress   
hugged her in all the right places and was a bit more revealing than   
it should have been. It was causing William's thoughts to run off in   
far too many scandalizing directions. She looked like an angel, he   
thought, a bleedin' angel sent down just for him. He blinked a few   
times, waiting for the vision to disappear.  
  
All thoughts of Cecily (and he had to admit rather shamefully that   
there hadn't been many lately) flew out of his head and hurried to   
catch the next ship to England.  
  
Under William's appraising stare, Buffy felt herself colour. She ran   
her hands over her dress self-consciously, and wished with all her   
might that she hadn't put on that damn corset. That had to be the   
reason she was out of breath. It had nothing to do with Spike's   
transformation. Nothing at all to do with how warm and gentle his   
brown suit made him look, or how his hair was curled and thoroughly   
tousled. And the look on his face... She imagined placing her hands   
against his cheekbones and guiding it down for a kiss and then   
she'd...  
  
Buffy shook herself mentally. There was nothing about Spike that was   
at all warm or gentle. He was hard and powerful and strong. But,   
she argued, gazing still at William, so was he. He didn't look it,   
in his suit, but she could sense it. The aura of power was still   
there, it just wasn't something that William wore comfortably. And   
the soft, loving look on William's face. She had seen that too, on   
Spike. Years ago, she'd seen him gaze at Drusilla like that. Of   
course, then it disgusted her, and it still riled her up a little   
bit, but it was a look of tenderness all the same. Hell, she'd even   
had it directed at her, on these very stairs the night she'd...   
  
He was moving towards her now, advancing quickly. Unconsciously, she   
glided down the stairs, trying not to trip on her dress. They met at   
the base of them and stared at each other, slightly confused. The   
warm feeling that had begun in the pit of Buffy's stomach was   
threatening to consume her as she gazed up at him, seeing Spike and   
William both.   
  
And William... he loved her and it had him baffled. The fact that he   
did love her didn't puzzle him at all. He hadn't thought of Cecily   
since he'd arrived. But the WAY the love felt. It was old and it   
was worn and he could have sworn he'd felt it before, for her.   
  
"Buffy," he whispered, stepping closer. He wanted so badly to have   
her verify it, that this feeling wasn't new.   
  
"I-" she began, but then stopped as he placed his hand on her waist   
and leaned in.  
  
William- SPIKE- was going to kiss her! She blinked a few times and   
waited for the disgust to set in. It never came. Infact, the   
impending kiss didn't really bother her at all. For once in her   
life, she decided not to question it. Instead, she shut her eyes and   
waited.  
  
"Ummm... not to interrupt your little moment here, but there's food.   
Lots of good, plentiful food on the table, and I'm really starting to   
lose my appetite."   
  
Buffy's eyes flew open, and found William's face an inch away from   
hers. She went cross-eyed looking at him, then regained her senses,   
and leapt back so fast that she almost tripped on her petticoats.   
Without looking back, she all but ran to the couch and sat by Xander   
and Anya. William seemed to have the same idea, fleeing quickly to   
his corner.  
  
The silence that followed was embarrassing. Buffy was blushing   
brightly, she could feel it. Desperately, she looked around, trying   
to find something to say, while not looking at William. She settled   
on Xander.  
  
"Xander!" she cried, "Lovin' the Victorian you!"   
  
Xander coloured slightly, tugging at his collar. His suit was   
similar to William's, only black, and his vest wasn't buttoned up all   
the way.   
  
"Dawn sure didn't," he huffed, "Took one look at me and ran to   
Janice's, laughing."  
  
"Bugger it all, but that one does look like my Kitty," William said   
quietly.   
  
"His little sister," Buffy whispered, for the benefit of her confused   
friends.  
  
"You have a sister?" Willow asked, politely. In all truth, she was   
very curious about Spike's past.  
  
"Yes," he said, before smiling, "No brothers though, and I always   
wanted one of those as a boy. Kitty is quite a few years younger   
than me, you see."  
  
"Different father?" the Slayer asked, snooping.  
  
"No, same father. Father and Mum rather thought they were done when   
they had me, being a son and all, but Mum did want a daughter, so..."   
He trailed off and shrugged, shy with the attention. He desperately   
wanted to find his poetry book and disappear.  
  
Luck wasn't on his side, and the questions, now that the Scoobies had   
been set off, were coming in rapid fire.  
  
"Are you married?"  
  
"Do you believe in demons? What would you do if you were say... a   
vampire?"  
  
"What's your house like?"  
  
"Who are your friends?"  
  
"Do you like money?"  
  
"Ahn!"  
  
William was taken aback and silenced. Bewildered, he watched them   
watching him and cleared his throat. He thought he could deal with   
those questions, but then the smiling blonde whose name he'd   
forgotten dropped the bombshell.  
  
"Are you a virgin?"  
  
Four horrified Scoobies turned to face Anya, who merely shrugged and   
looked to William for an answer. Buffy, who thought for sure   
vampires couldn't blush, was instantly proven wrong. She gawked at   
the vampire, who was beginning to resemble a tomato in colour, and   
began to worry that embarrassment would cause him to combust, and as   
a result, leave him as dust.  
  
"Anya, you can't ask him that!" the blonde Slayer protested,   
embarrassed suddenly for his sake. His blush spoke volumes, and she   
didn't want him- didn't want Spike- to reveal anything that would   
cause him grief later.  
  
"He's right, Anya," Xander said, "But you can ask him a slightly   
different question."  
  
"I can?" she asked, looking crushed.  
  
"Mmmhmm. William, my man, do you believe in premarital sex?"  
  
This was all too much, really. He gazed at the room and squeaked   
desperately, "Should we be speaking so frankly in front of the   
ladies?"  
  
"Ahh, nothing any of them haven't encountered."  
  
William's eyes widened, and instantly went to Buffy, who was glaring   
at Xander. Her curiousity got the better of her, however, and she   
suddenly wanted to know too. Spike, after all, knew all about her   
sex life, even Parker. She shuddered, and turned expectantly to him.  
  
William shifted uncomfortably. Five pairs of eyes were fastened on   
him and he was sure he'd never felt more awkward.  
  
"I-I think... I think that..." Oh, bloody hell. "I think that it   
should be with somebody you love. It... it should be... meaningful."  
  
Buffy and her friends all gawked at each other, putting together   
William's words and body language mentally. Each balked in surprise   
when the truth hit them. Xander was the first to speak it outloud.  
  
"Drusilla and Harmony."  
  
Drusilla and Harmony. Buffy repeated it softly to herself, and shook   
her head in shock. And then suddenly, something else occurred to   
her. She was so dumbstruck that she almost missed the next statement.  
  
"Assuming he didn't cheat on them of course."  
  
William all but jumped out of the corner, saying loudly, "Spike most   
certainly did not! He loved Dru more than... more than..." And then   
the poet failed to find a word that described just how much he had.   
He was too embarrassed to put two and two together, and realize that   
he knew much too much about a man he'd never met, or that Buffy and   
her friends were talking about them as one and the same.  
  
"Oh God," she murmured, horrified still at her revelation, "I've   
slept with more people in four years than Spike has in over a   
hundred."  
  
"Unless you count the Buffybot," Willow reassured her friend, leaning   
over to pat her arm, "Then you're tied."  
  
"Well," the Slayer harrumphed, leaning back into the cushions of the   
couch.  
  
Anxious suddenly to change the subject, Willow said, "These dresses   
are very uncomfortable."  
  
Tara complimented sweetly, "You look pretty. But I agree."  
  
"Aren't they though? This is even worse than that one I wore for   
Angel."  
  
"Angel?" William asked, leaning forward. Memories of old dreams hit   
him and he felt utterly repulsed at his mention.   
  
"Buffy's first love," Xander explained, "Not too fond of that one."  
  
"Neither am I, bloody poof that he is," William announced.   
  
Buffy blinked and glanced at William, who didn't appear to notice his   
slip up. She knew Spike was remembering, and wondered briefly how   
much longer she'd have William around.  
  
"Okay, sitting right here, you know? If you're going to do the Angel   
bashing, at least do it when I'm not here. Maybe you missed the   
memo, but I loved him. First true love and all that."  
  
William turned to Buffy, surprised at the wave of jealousy that hit   
him. Angel! Of all people. He remembered how much he had hurt   
Spike, and was so overcome with bitterness that he had to sit down.   
All thoughts of acting like the mature adult that he was hurried to   
catch up with the ones of Cecily.  
  
"Well, in England," he said, "there's a girl, Cecily. I plan on   
asking her to marry me when I return home."  
  
The envy hit Buffy so suddenly that it almost bowled her over. She   
glared at William for a whole minute before she became too angry to   
look at him anymore. Marry her, would he! Love HER, would he!   
Well, she just didn't think so.  
  
Fully annoyed at him and his presense, she stood up and yelled over   
her shoulder, "I'm getting drinks!"   
  
**  
She made it all the way to the kitchen before throwing an all out   
temper tantrum. Angrily, she stormed through the cupboards, locating   
glasses. She slammed each of them onto the counter, smiling with   
each hard thump. Then, in her frustration, she couldn't decide what   
she wanted everybody to drink.  
  
She knew what she wanted. She wanted that bourbon Spike had offered   
her so long ago on that awful night he'd confessed his love. And she   
wanted a lot of it.  
  
Because she was jealous of a girl Spike had loved.   
  
And, if that wasn't enough to make a girl want to drink herself   
unconscious, then she wasn't sure what was.   
  
"This isn't jealousy!" she yelled at the fridge, daring it to defy   
her, "I'm just not used to him loving somebody who isn't me!"  
  
Buffy wished she believed that. Cecily's photograph kept flashing   
before her eyes. She was so pretty, the Slayer thought, all elegant   
and ladylike. She could probably faint with the best of them.   
Suddenly, the Slayer felt inadequate in her dress. It didn't look as   
good on her as it would on Cecily, she was willing to bet.  
  
"Stupid bitch," she grumbled uncharitably, deciding on Coke. She   
poured it into the glasses too fast, and it spilled all over the   
counter, angering her further.  
  
And why had Spike kept her picture? Did he love her THAT much? To   
keep it around for a hundred and twenty one years? How was she to   
compete with that?  
  
She sat down glumly at the table, and cradled her head in her hands.   
She heard footsteps enter the kitchen and all but growled, "I'm fine,   
Wils, go keep Tara company, okay?"  
  
It was a male that cleared his throat awkwardly. And, since her   
vampire radar was going crazy, she knew exactly who he was. She   
didn't look up.  
  
"May I sit down?" he asked, after a huge pause.  
  
She nodded and kicked a chair out for him. She'd forgotten about the   
delicate slippers she'd been wearing and winced.   
  
William took it uncomfortably and cleared his throat again.   
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"What?" she grumbled, in a tone that didn't encourage him to   
continue.   
  
"I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."  
  
"Said what? Totally not bothered here!"  
  
"I don't love Cecily anymore. I have no intentions of marrying her.   
I... I did, you see. But they're gone now."  
  
"Why? Didn't love her as much as you thought? Or were you just   
fickle?" She was being mean and she knew it, but the fact that   
Spike's old crushes could incite this jealous rage annoyed her beyond   
belief.  
  
"No," he said, shyly glancing at his lap, "It's because... Buffy,   
it's because I found you."   
  
He counted to forty five before daring to look up with hopeful eyes.   
The Slayer was watching him, completely floored. That was good, he   
supposed. She wasn't running away screaming. But then again, she   
wasn't exactly declaring undying love and devotion either.  
  
Buffy opened to speak, but was interrupted by a burst of loud,   
classical music.  
  
"The hell?"  
  
William smiled, suddenly glad of a distraction. "Willow wanted to   
play some music and Anya had some... something about E-bay, whatever   
that is. They're going to dance."  
  
"Oh my God, do you dance?" she asked, spinning to face him.  
  
He noticed the excitement on her face and smiled. "Not very well,   
I'm afraid."  
  
"Oh."  
  
His smile became a grin, and he stood up, offering her his   
hand. "Shall we?"  
  
She stood up too, Cecily forgotten. Then, smirking, she leaned into   
William and, when he didn't pull away, slyly whispered, "You know you   
want to dance."  
  
**  
"Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you'll like it as much as   
she did-"  
  
"NO! This is all- You're wrong." She hated him, she was sure she'd   
never loathed anybody more in her whole entire life.   
  
Spike grinned at her, pumped and obviously spoiling for a fight.   
  
"Hey. You asked. Sorry if the answer isn't cuddly enough for you-"   
  
"Get out of my sight, Spike. Now."  
  
She'd used THAT voice. That deadly voice that was full of quiet   
power. He wondered idly if she knew what that voice did to him, and   
then decided he didn't care. He stepped in her direction, dizzy with   
the need to be closer.  
  
"Ooooh, did I scare you? You're the Slayer. Do something about  
it. Hit me."  
  
Hit him, jump him. It was all the same, and he wasn't finished.  
  
"Come on. One good swing. You know you want to."  
  
She wished he wasn't crowding her space, wished he wasn't cocking his   
eyebrow at her, and wished more than anything else that he was   
wrong.   
  
"I mean it-"  
  
"So do I. Give it to me good, Buffy. Do it."  
  
She wasn't sure what she was meant to do suddenly. Spike was looking   
at her with such thinly veiled lust that she was purely disgusted and   
floored and struck dumb.   
  
Overcome with desire for the petite blonde, he stepped forward and   
clasped her arms with his hands and leaned down. He was drunk with   
it all. The rehashing of his glory days, the old feeling of power,   
and the pretty, brassed off Slayer with her deadly force and quasi   
innosense left him absolutely weak with want. And he could sense her   
disgust, sure, but he could also sense something else. Something   
much more desireable.  
  
"Spike!" she cried, stepping back but not completely away. "What the   
hell are you doing?"  
  
"Come on. I feel it, Slayer. You know you want to dance."  
  
**  
William stepped slightly away from Buffy, overcome with the memory.   
It embarrassed him, what Spike felt. And it embarrassed him further,   
because he felt exactly the same.  
  
Horrified and disgusted with himself, he grabbed her hands and   
murmured, "Let's go in there and dance then, love, if you're so sure   
that I want to."  
  
"No. Not in there. Not in front of them. In here, just you and me."  
  
He looked at her as though she was crazy, and maybe she was. She was   
beginning to think she was becoming a regular Drusilla. Surely, she   
was asking for trouble.   
  
And, surely she didn't care.  
  
She was seeing Spike, and she couldn't stop. The images hit her   
unbidden. Spike, telling her he knew she'd never love him at the   
foot of the stairs. Spike, promising to protect Dawn. Spike,   
stealing an RV to aid their escape. Spike, enduring torture for her   
when he had nothing but her scorn. Spike, delivering flowers with an   
unsigned card after her mother's death. Spike, always stubbornly   
there. Spike, as who he used to be.   
  
And how blind was she?  
  
She all but jumped on him, almost knocking him over with the   
surprised force of her kiss. He wobbled unsteadily before regaining   
his footing, and kissing her right back. She was warm. He couldn't   
remember the last time he'd felt such warmth, and he clutched at her   
greedily. And then the obvious occurred to him. This kiss... the   
feelings behind it were worn and tried, just as his were for her. He   
didn't understand it and he didn't need to. It felt right, and   
nothing had felt like that for a long time. He loved her and that   
was all that mattered.  
  
Abruptly, she pulled away, and took his hand. She knew she should   
feel shy, but she couldn't bring herself to. This was Spike. He   
would be there tomorrow, whether or not she wanted him to be. She   
clasped his hand more tightly, and guided him out of the kitchen and   
to the stairs.   
  
It was time to dance. 


	9. No Time To Rewind

Title: Two Weeks With William  
Author: Edith Campbell  
Section: 9/10  
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for   
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).   
Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being   
distributed. :)  
Rating: PG 15 for language  
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?   
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers. Oh, and   
in this chapter pretty much the whole entire series is game.  
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the   
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!  
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets   
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a   
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for   
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines   
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able   
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?  
**********************************************************************  
  
==  
A eerily high woman's voice was echoing about in his head, whispering   
the same three words in a flowing Cockney accent: "My heart expands."  
  
"Did you knock over the cabinet in the basement?"   
  
Uncle Tom's voice was low and dangerous and his breath was heavy with   
alcohol. William shied away from him, backing up until he was   
pressed against the wall. The older man wouldn't let him escape,   
however, and he too moved in closer, leaning right in his nephew's   
face. William tried not to look at the beady eyed man with the   
bulging belly and red cheeks, and tried his hardest not to inhale.   
He concentrated all his attention on the tips of his shoes.  
  
His uncle wouldn't have that. He grabbed William's chin between his   
fingers and wrenched it in his direction, causing the boy to wince.   
He gave him a harsh shake.  
  
"I will ask you only one more time, boy. Did you knock over the   
cabinet in the basement?"  
  
Over his uncle's shoulder, he could see Kitty crouching behind the   
huge, wooden desk in the centre of the office. She looked terrifed,   
and he knew why. She hated the noise involved in yelling. She'd   
cried endlessly when the bleedin' cabinet had collapsed, partly   
because she'd smacked into it and had whammed her knee good and   
proper, and partly because of the crash all the liquor bottles had   
made as they broke.   
  
"Did you knock over the soddin' cabinet?" This time his uncle's   
voice was louder, and William found himself pinned to the wall by his   
throat. He gasped and gagged and felt his eyes water, but he tried   
not to struggle. Doing so only upset Uncle Tom further.  
  
Kitty was screeching again, and her brother cringed. At the same   
time, a cold fury settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew if he   
lied and said he'd knocked over the cabinet, he'd be belted so bad he   
wouldn't be able to lay on his back for almost a month. Not to   
mention the thrasing his cousins were sure to give him. But if he   
told the truth... His uncle would backhand Kitty, despite the fact   
that she was only two, and she wouldn't be allowed to come and visit   
anymore. He didn't want Kitty and Mother's visits taken away. And   
he didn't want Kitty hurt. Ever.  
  
"Yessir," he said at last, his voice tight with the strain of talking   
past his uncle's hand.  
  
The shout that erupted from Uncle Tom would have scared William   
almost as much as it scared Kitty, if he wouldn't have found himself   
tossed across the room. He struck his mouth on the desk on the way   
down, and tasted blood. For a minute, he wondered if he'd broken his   
jaw, but then he felt the first lash of the belt, and thought nothing   
at all.  
  
"You. Stupid. Soddin'. Boy," his uncle roared, marking each word with   
a lash, "Clumsy. Waste. Of. Space. Just. Like. That. Whore. Of. A.   
Mother, No. Good. Bitch."  
  
1, 2, 3, 4, 5... the hits were endless.  
  
Bordering on consciousness, William imagined his mother coming into   
the room hellbent on vengenance. She had done so once a year ago,   
and had coldcocked her brother-in-law so hard he'd fallen   
unconscious. She'd then swooped to her son's side and held him,   
crying and promising to go to the courts. She'd get him back, she   
promised on his father's life. His uncle was shady, he'd pulled a   
funny deal with fancy lawyers, but Mummy would fix it, William would   
see.   
  
He just had to trust her.  
  
6, 7, 8, 9...  
  
He just had to trust her.  
  
And suddenly, the hits stopped. William lay for a moment, face down   
and dazed. His back felt sticky with blood and it was on fire. He   
winced and hissed, and then cried out despite himself when his uncle   
roughly pulled him to his feet. He gave his nephew a harsh shove in   
the direction of the door, nearly sending him sprawling. William   
caught his footing at the last possible instant, grabbed his baby   
sister in a tight hug, and made a beeline for the door.  
  
He slammed it shut behind him, and set Kitty on the ground. She was   
crying still and was clutching at his leg with her pudgy baby hands,   
but his back was in too much pain for him to do more than pat her   
head. Gingerly, he leaned his side against the door and inhaled a   
shaky breath that ended in a sob.   
  
Apparently, his sob was too loud. A moment later, something   
shattered against the back of the door, and he heard his hated Uncle   
Tom scream mockingly, "Run to your poetry, William! It's the only   
bloody thing that loves you, you fucking son of a bitch!"  
  
==  
  
The voice changed. It was softer and the accent was more musical.   
Cecily. "'Tis grown a bulge in it."  
  
"Mother said you weren't to go in there, Kitty. Don't you ever   
listen?" William asked, slumping against a tree in the park that his   
sister had insisted on dragging him to. Supposedly, everybody would   
be attending the fair there and it would look good if she was there,   
as well.  
  
"I didn't go in there intentionally," she promised, patting self-  
consciously at her burgandy cloak. She loved her older brother   
dearly, that was not to be mistaken, but sometimes William simply had   
no sense of fun. Or, at least she didn't find his stuffy old books   
particularily amusing. When he secluded himself as he had a tendency   
to do, she worried about him endlessly. "Perhaps you should try it,   
Will. Find out if you have a certain Cecily's affections?"  
  
"Oh, I don't believe in all that rot," he affirmed, searching his   
pockets for money. He could smell the taffy at a nearby stand, and   
figured he was allowed to have some.   
  
"Are you going to buy taffy?" Kitty asked, peering into her brother's   
hand.  
  
"Yes I am, and no, you may not have some." He smiled curtly at her   
but winked, and she knew that he would come back with two bags full   
and not just one.  
  
Without her brother peering endlessly over her shoulder, Kitty turned   
her attention back to the small, curtained tent that she had just   
vacated. She hadn't known what had drawn her there, and surely the   
old woman inside had given her a fright. She, however, had been   
filled with a desire to seek answers to questions which nobody would   
ever believe, and seeing a fortune teller had seemed like the thing   
to do.   
  
"Your candy, sis," William said, joining her again. He noticed her   
watching the tent and sighed. "Shall we go then?"  
  
Suddenly, she turned to him with pleading eyes. "You won't tell   
Mother, will you? She wouldn't hold for me seeing that. Hard to   
marry me off if everybody believes I put stock in all that."   
  
"Which you do." Since she didn't seem to be moving, he grabbed her   
arm, and steered her in the direction of the exit, where their   
carriage was waiting.  
  
"Well, William, I am sorry, but you try waking up with a vampire in   
your bedroom. Perhaps then you'd believe me." And with that, she   
wrenched her arm free and huffed off ahead of him.  
  
He caught up with her in moments. "And the fortune teller believed   
you, did she?"  
  
"She did!" Kitty cried, defiantely, turning to her brother in a whirl   
of heavy skirts. "And she told me what to do if I see one."  
  
"And what's that?" he asked, dryly.  
  
"Why, stake it, of course."  
  
"Stake it? Kitty, are you out of your bloody mind? You can't   
believe all that rot!" William was incredulous.  
  
"I am not, and I do." For a moment, she appeared to be struggling   
with what to say next. At last she heaved a huge sigh and   
whispered, "She said something odd, William."  
  
Wearily, he muttered, "Did she."  
  
"Yes, she did. She told me... told me a certain Spike already had an   
invitation into our home. Do you know who that is? Spike?"  
  
William shivered and was filled with an uncanny feeling. It was as   
though somebody had walked over his grave. He shuddered.  
  
"Spike? For heaven's sakes, no. You musn't believe in that. Now,   
come. Let's go. Wouldn't want to be caught out at night, what with   
all those vampires."  
  
Kitty glared at her brother, socked him soundly in the arm, and then   
hurried to the carriage ahead of him.  
  
==  
This time she was American, and he found himself liking her voice   
best of all. It warmed him for the first time in what felt like   
centuries. "Inspired by your beauty, effulgent."  
  
"And I wonder... what possible catastrophe came crashing down from   
heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears?"  
  
William just about jumped off the bale of hay in surprise and fright   
at hearing the voice of a woman. For a fleeting second, he thought   
Cecily had come out after him, having changed her mind. And then   
reality hit. He tried to sit a little straighter and hide the fact   
that he'd been blubbering like a bloody baby.  
  
"Nothing. I wish to be alone."  
  
"Oh, I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his   
strength, his vision, his glory. That and burning baby fish swimming   
all around your head."  
  
Burning baby fish? He backed up slightly, away from the woman with   
crazily enchanting eyes that scared him like nothing else.  
  
"That's quite close enough. I've heard tales of London pickpockets.   
You'll not be getting my purse, I tell you."  
  
The woman blatantly disregarded his protest, moving closer with an   
amused smile. From out of nowhere, William noticed that she was   
unusually pretty.   
  
"Don't need a purse." She laughed as she said it, and then pointed   
from his head to his heart. "Your wealth lies here... and here. In   
the spirit and... imagination. You walk in worlds the others can't   
begin to imagine."  
  
Her insight into what he quite obviously was and the hand on his   
chest that was traveling lower faster than he could think momentarily   
made him forget himself.  
  
"Yes," he purred. And then it all came crashing back. "I mean, no!   
I mean... Mother's expecting me."  
  
The dark haired woman didn't seem overly concerned. She busied   
herself with unbuttoning his collar, and all thoughts of his mother   
flew out the window.  
  
"I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. Something...   
effulgent."  
  
Effulgent! William's eyes widened and he unconsciously moved closer   
to her as he repeated it in a whisper.  
  
She had him and she knew it. She gave him a sultry smile and   
whispered, "Do you want it?"  
  
He couldn't remember a time when he'd wanted anything more. Finally,   
somebody saw him... saw him for what he really was, and felt as   
though she could love him.  
  
"Yes," he paused, hesitantly placing a hand against her chest, "Oh   
God, yes."  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
William awoke with a start. Breathing heavily, he counted to fifteen   
and forced himself to think logically. Unfortunately, that was   
something he had always been terrible at, and before he knew it, he   
found himself moving to check and see if he had a pulse. His fingers   
hovered hesitantly over his wrist, and he urged himself on fervently.  
  
"Just check, and stop being such a nancy about it," he whispered, angrily.  
  
His harsh whisper disturbed the young woman beside him and she   
snuggled closer. William, who had forgotten her briefly as a result   
of his dreams, smiled tenderly and placed his hand on her arm   
instead. The love he felt for her nearly bowled him over, and he too   
cuddled in closer, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.  
  
The feel of cool lips against her skin prompted Buffy out of her   
sleep. Smiling, she found William's hand under the sheet and gave it   
a gentle squeeze. She absolutely refused to feel awkward, because   
this... with Spike... felt good. And for the first time upon waking   
up, the Slayer felt safe.  
  
"Mmmm," she sighed, dozily, "What time is it?"  
  
"Time?" William turned over, taking her with him, and glanced at the   
clock. "2:30."  
  
"Ohhh, 2:30," she yawned, cuddling closer still. And then it hit   
her. "2:30!!"  
  
Before William could say Spike, Buffy had sat up in bed and was   
frantically trying to claw her way out of the sheets. She made it,   
stumbled up, realized her state of undress, and snatched the blanket   
off the bed.  
  
"Get up!" she cried, desperately, "It's 2:30!! We've been up here   
for an hour and a half!"  
  
William was less than impressed with her hasty attitude, but seeing   
her for that brief second before she'd grabbed the blanket had   
improved his spirits greatly.  
  
"Oh relax," he sighed, stretching out, "I'm sure they were too busy   
dancing to notice anything amiss."  
  
Buffy stopped trying to get into her petticoats and turned to glare   
at him.  
  
"William, my friends notice everything," she said, dryly. Then, she   
made her break even longer by pausing to admire the very naked   
vampire on her bed.  
  
William noticed this and flushed. Blushing like the naked fool that   
he was, he stood up and began to search for his pants. Respectfully,   
he turned his back on the Slayer and began to dress. Buffy rolled   
her eyes at this, but didn't comment. Instead, she began to fiddle   
with the cursed corset.  
  
"Dammit," she muttered, before turning back to William, who was   
dressed now and sitting on the bed. "Do me up, would you?"  
  
He nodded absently and moved over, deftly tying on the undergarment.   
  
"Do you put corsets on a lot of girls?" she asked, climbing into her   
dress again. She let him handle the buttons.  
  
"Nah," he mumbled, leaning down to kiss her softly, "I only take them   
off."  
  
"Which you are very good at," she whispered, "About this though-"  
  
"I know, I know, and I'm sorry. I don't know where my thoughts   
were. I've soiled your virtue and... and I'll make it all better.   
I... I love you, Buffy."  
  
Soiled her virtue? She smiled and tried to imagine a duster clad   
Spike saying that. Then his words registered, and she melted.  
  
"You love me?" she cooed, reminding herself of a character from a   
romance novel.  
  
"I do," he repeated.  
  
"And I..." And she what? Couldn't pretend any longer. "I love you   
too, William." I love you too, Spike.  
  
William laughed loudly and then grabbed her. They were in serious   
jeopardy of never going downstairs at this rate, and Buffy knew it.   
Pouting, she gave him a push in the direction of the door and   
whispered a promise for later.  
  
He was almost out when he stopped and turned back to her. Buffy was   
about to hurry him on again, but shut her mouth when she saw the look   
on his face.  
  
"What's wrong, William?" Somehow, she found his hand.  
  
"I... well, this will sound silly, Buffy. But I had this dream..."  
  
"As you do."  
  
"Am I... I mean, could I possibly be a... a monster?"  
  
Buffy looked alarmed for a moment, but then she caught herself. She   
gazed up into his eyes and smiled.  
  
"William," she said truthfully, "Somebody else- somebody very like   
you- told me that once, and I was stupid enough not to answer. Too   
busy, thought I had time. You're not a monster."  
  
His smile was contagious and he caught the Slayer again for another   
kiss. She let him deepen it this time, and forgot all about her   
friends. William, however, did not. And, when he left the bedroom,   
his step was much more jauntier than when he'd gone in.  
  
**  
  
If the Scoobies had noticed their absense (which Buffy was one   
hundred percent certain they had), they were too tactful to mention   
it at the time. She received a few raised eyebrows, all of which she   
pointedly ignored, and simply took a seat by William, who had once   
again lapsed into a shy silence.   
  
"Anybody want anything to drink?" the Slayer offered, noticing their   
empty glasses.  
  
"Yeah, Buff," Xander smiled, "Kinda thirsty."  
  
"Just don't disappear for an hour and half again okay?" Willow added,   
but she was smiling too.  
  
Buffy nodded, blushed, and gave William's hand a pat in farewell.   
She was halfway through the door when Anya caught up with her. The   
ex-demon held her tongue until they reached the kitchen, but then it   
proved to be too much.  
  
"You had sex with Spike!" she cried.  
  
Buffy's cheeks were on fire and she knew it, but she made a point of   
quietly getting glasses and drinks instead and not answering.  
  
Anya wouldn't have it. "Well, you did. You have that glowly look."  
  
"Glowly look?" Buffy laughed nervously.   
  
Anya's smirk was all knowing. She leaned against the counter and   
said, "And?"  
  
"And what?"  
  
"And am I right?"  
  
Haven gotten the Coke in record time, Buffy picked up the glasses and   
turned to leave. Over her shoulder, she called, "Corsets are fun to   
take off!"  
  
**  
William glanced around the living room, entirely confused. Every   
time he glanced at one of his Buffy's friends, he saw flashes of...   
memories. The looks on their faces when Spike had broken into the   
school years ago, Willow's oddly timed, yet still comforting, words   
when Spike couldn't bite her. Drinking with Anya. And Tara... Spike   
had punched her in the face. He shook his head and blinked, willing   
the thoughts to leave.  
  
"I'm back with beverages!" Buffy announced, sitting by him with a   
satisfying swish of her skirts, "And, William, I brought you your   
favourite."  
  
He took the glass of disguised blood she offered and gazed at the   
clear liquid in it. The tangy fumes drifted up towards his nose and   
suddenly... something happened. His skin felt too tight, and it was   
much too warm in the room. He felt his face change, but couldn't be   
bothered to figure out why. He felt violent and powerful and   
strong. It overpowered him and he threw back the liquid with a   
savage desire that should have terrifed him.  
  
The Slayer looked at the vamped out William and gasped. The soft   
sigh seemed to send him back to reality and he hesitantly patted his   
face. His blue eyes grew wide with panic.  
  
"Buffy, what's wrong with my face?" His voice sounded strange to his   
ears, muffled and harsh. He couldn't stop touching the odd ridges   
disfiguring his forehead and jumped to his feet. "I need a mirror.   
Where's a bloody mirror?"  
  
She was on her feet too. Quickly, before he could find one, she   
grabbed his arm. "We have no mirrors. Bad for... self-esteem."  
  
And then he growled. Surprised and horrified, he stumbled backwards   
and half-fell half-sat on the chesterfield behind him. He could feel   
his teeth with his tongue and they were different too. They were...   
pointy.  
  
A voice came back to him, soft and hazy with time. It taunted him   
and nagged at something he couldn't- WOULDN'T- acknowledge. "She   
told me... told me a certain Spike already had an invitation into our   
home. Do you know who that is? Spike?" The dreams... the people...   
Buffy...  
  
Wild eyed and frantic, he clawed his way up again and raced to the   
centre of the room, almost plowing over Xander. He crouched over   
defensively, and backed himself into the wall. Then, he began to   
babble.  
  
"Oh, quickly! I'm the very spirit of vexation. What's another word   
for 'gleaming'? It's a perfectly perfect word as many words go but   
the bother is nothing rhymes, you see... My heart expands/ 'Tis grown   
a bulge in it/ Inspired by your beauty, effulgent... I know I'm a bad   
poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see   
me..."  
  
Buffy turned to Willow and yelled, "Do something!"  
  
The witch shrugged and shook her head in confusion and Xander   
exclaimed, half teasing and half surprised, "He's a poet?"  
  
William caught this, and his tone became mocking and light. "Have   
you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody   
awful poetry!... It suits him. I'd rather have a railroad spike   
through my head than listen to that awful stuff!"  
  
"Make him stop!" Anya insisted, frightened by the frenzied look in   
his eyes.  
  
Buffy caught his hand in hers and forced him to sit down. She   
couldn't, however, end the torrent of words escaping his lips.  
  
"Oh yes! I mean no. I mean, Mother's expecting me... Oh yes, God   
yes!... It's Spike now... What's a Slayer?... Sorry, luv, don't speak   
Chinese...!" His voice was climbing. He turned to Buffy and   
preened, panicking, "Sorry, luv, don't speak Chinese!"  
  
"Spike!" she shouted, shaking him hard. When that didn't snap him   
out of it, she pulled back her arm and coldcocked him. Surprised, he   
fell to the floor and continued rambling, facing the roof.  
  
"Someone's in the ceiling," he taunted, crazily, "...I'll dance with   
you, pet, on the Slayer's grave!"  
  
"Not loving the imagery here."  
  
"I want to stop Angel. I want to save the world... Why did you do   
it, baby? Why did you leave me? We were happy here... Oh, forever and   
ever, mon petite creme brulee."  
  
"'Mon petite creme brulee'?" Willow whispered to Tara, "Who's he   
talking about?"  
  
"Dru?" Buffy offered incorrectly, crouching again by Spike.  
  
He turned to look at Willow, who smiled despite herself.   
  
"Don't be ridiculous. I'd bite you in a heartbeat... Buffy, I love   
you. God, I love you so much... No, God no!... You think I like   
having you in here? Destroying everything that was me, until all   
that's left is you, in a dead shell?... 'Cause Buffy- the other, not   
so pleasant Buffy- anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I   
couldn't live, her bein' in that much pain... I know you'll never   
love me. I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And   
that's..."  
  
They were all staring down at him, as though he'd lost his soddin'   
marbles. And maybe he had. His bloody head was pounding with a   
headache so fierce, he wondered if the chip had zapped him.   
  
Slowly, he sat up, only noticing that Buffy's hand was squeezing his   
when he tried to run it through his hair. He gave her a confused   
look.  
  
"Gettin' kinda touchy, aren't you, luv?" he asked, shaking her off and rising  
to his feet.  
  
It was Anya who said the word on everybody's mind. "William?"  
  
Spike blinked, baffled, and seemed to notice for the first time that   
he was dressed like a Victorian gentleman. He took a hesitant step   
towards the door, shaking his head.  
  
"No, no, no, NO! What's all this rot about William?"  
  
The Scoobies stared back at him in utter silence. His bleedin'   
poetry was almost written across each one of their faces, and   
suddenly that awful knowledge was too much. Spinning, he grabbed his   
duster off the hook and strutted to the door, fighting for his cool.  
  
It slammed on his fiercely loud, "Bloody hell!!"  
  
TBC 


	10. Can't Deny You

Title: Two Weeks With William   
Author: Edith Campbell   
Section: 10/10 (Yes, you have read right! This is *finally* finished!)  
Relationship: Spike/Buffy   
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister). Those are mine. :)   
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being distributed. :)   
Rating: PG 15 for language   
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How? Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers.   
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!   
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a slight problem: Spike thinks it's 1880.   
Dedication: To everybody who has stayed with this story and bothered to write me just to ask if I had fallen off the face of the earth. :) And also to a good friend of mine, who yelled at me for throwing away my talent. Good luck with your own talent, and happy birthday. :)  
Author's Note: Some swearing in this chapter. Bad Buffy.  
  
********************************************************  
  
Buffy was nervous.  
  
Not world endage nervous. She wasn't gripped by an all consuming panic (well, she was... but this was *different*), or driven by the blinding force of being chosen. The fate of her friends and millions of people she'd never met weren't resting on her shoulders. She should have been just fine.  
  
She wasn't.  
  
Letting out a tiny, anxious squeak, Buffy leaned closer to her mirror, armed with a pair of tweezers and a bottle of cover up, and began to slay all of her blemishes with an admirable fury. Then, she stepped back and did a tiny little twirl, critically examining herself from all angles.  
  
In her beige pants and pink peasant blouse, she looked like a rattled Buffybot, minus the skirt. She even wore the big, vapid smile like an extremely important accessory. The thought made her ill.  
  
The impending evening also made her ill, even though Willow and Giles had both reassured her that Spike would probably remember very little of his ordeal.  
  
"I can't DO this!" she cried, her voice raising slightly. Slaying vampires was one thing. Telling one that you loved him, had slept with him, and had stolen over a hundred years worth of his poetry was entirely another.  
  
She just hoped that Spike would be so excited over the first two that he'd forget to kill her over the third.   
  
Determinded now, Buffy turned to her bed and picked up the jewelry box containing all of the belongings Spike had saved from his life as William. She caressed the lid softly with the palm of her hand, remembering the man he had once been. The man who had made him what he was.  
  
The vampire she loved.  
  
***  
  
The walk to Spike's crypt seemed to take longer than usual. Each step the Slayer took made her stomach feel heavier. The jewelry box rested in her arms like dead weight. Her heart wouldn't stop hammering.  
  
"Hi, Spike," she was saying to herself, as she marched through the surprisingly abandoned graveyard, "Sorry it took me a week and a half to get up the courage to come and see you, slaying duties and all. Lots of nasties to kill, much evil in the world..." She trailed off with a demented laugh, before picking up with a newfound gusto, "Anyway, just wanted to return these poems. They're pretty good, not like terrific but- no don't say that, bad Buffy. They're pretty good. They don't like suck. Oh, and, uh, I sorta kicked my knickers off for ya. How do you like that, with the knickers? Ha."  
  
Ugh. She was Buffy Summers. She *hated* words. She half wished a particularily talented vamp would hop out from behind a grave and put her out of her misery.   
  
Luck wasn't on her side and she could already see Spike's crypt looming in the distance. Her feet seemed to drag the remaining ten feet to the door. Summoning up a mock courage, she raised her fist to knock, then looked at it, bewildered, and simply kicked the door down.  
  
Just because she loved him didn't mean she needed to use her manners.  
  
The cyrpt was darker than usual. None of the candles were lit and upon entering Buffy had the impression of being swallowed alive. She felt her chest tighten in panic and clutched the box of William's belongings almost desperately. She forced herself to breathe, and concentrated fully on the familiar smell of old cigarette smoke. This was Spike's home. Not a coffin. Despite herself, she shivered and began a frantic mantra in her head.  
  
She could do this. She wasn't a nervous little fool. She was the Slayer. She was all powerful.  
  
She could do this. Really, she could. She could waltz in there, all cocky and casual, and act totally normal.   
  
It was best to get it over with, and she knew it.  
  
"Spike?" she called, groping for the wall. Her vampire sense wasn't tingling, which was odd. If he wasn't here, she was going to track him down and stake him, just for getting her all riled up and nervous over nothing.  
  
She waited, right hand pressed against the cool stone of the wall, but his answer never came. Swearing, she fumbled around in the dark before locating a candle, conveniently placed by a booklet of matches. In mere seconds, she lit it and held it up, illuminating the contents of the crypt.  
  
The contents of the crypt weren't right. She couldn't place it exactly, but something just didn't sit well. Intuition on fire, Buffy turned in a slow circle and held her breath.  
  
The crypt didn't look *lived* in. Sure, she could smell the cigarettes, but the smell didn't seem *fresh*. The sheets on his makeshift bed weren't crumpled. The door on his bar fridge was open and it appeared to be empty.  
  
Dread began to build within her, heavy and thick. Unconsciously, she began to search the floor for any obvious patches of dust, before remembering that she was in *Spike's* crypt and the whole place was full of dust.  
  
"Spike?" she called, nerves making her voice harsher than she meant it to be, "Where the hell are you? If you're lurking around in here somewhere, I swear on your grave that I'll-"  
  
And then she saw it, nestled on top of his sheets. The single piece of white paper seemed to jump out at her. Moving rapidly now, she snatched it off the bed. Her heart stopped when she recognized the neat, angular script and read what he had written.  
  
'Well, pet, decided to keep that promise. I'm gone for good this time, and don't you worry your pretty little head about me returning. What can I say? It's been fun. Look after the niblet for me.  
  
'Yours for all eternity,  
  
(and this written with a sardonic sarcasm so loud the Slayer swore she could hear it)  
  
'William A. Wyndham.'   
  
For seconds, the crypt remained eerily still. Buffy clutched the note in one hand. Without noticing, she settled William's jewelry box onto the bed. She did not blink. She did not breath.  
  
And then she exploded.   
  
Ripping the note into a million little pieces, she roared, "How dare you?!"  
  
Violently, she picked up a candlestick and smashed it against the wall. She kicked the bier in the middle with all her might, sending the sheet flying and demolishing the lid.   
  
"How could you FUCKING do that to me?! How could you leave??"  
  
Stridely purposely to the bar fridge, she lifted it high above her head and flung it as far as she could. It hit the floor with a crash and the door snapped off. This she picked up and hurled out the window.   
  
"You're just like him, you pathetic-"  
  
Her eyes lit on the sheet and she pounced, and began to rip it.  
  
"-blood sucking-"  
  
The pull of the fabric did not offer her much resistance. Frustrated, she walked to the wall and kicked a whole right through it.  
  
"-leech! You're just like them you know! Congratulations! You've turned into Angel!"  
  
She was just about to hurl a piece of the broken bier at the remains of the bar fridge when she saw the jewelry box, shoved in the corner and spilled by her carnage. Her resolve crumpled and the piece of bier landed at her feet. Feeling rather empty, she went to the corner and sat down by the jewelry box. Gently, she pulled it into her lap, curled over it, and began to sob.  
  
"I loved you and you're gone," she whispered, over and over, until the tears were too much and she fell silent.  
  
***  
  
The graveyard at night was no match for the Big Bad. He strutted through it, all bleached cockiness, and almost dared something to attack him. He wanted to show his might. He was bleedin' powerful and it was time for the whole entire world to remember it.  
  
Inhaling deeply on his cigarette, Spike looked around, taking in the seemingly endless dark. He was in his element. He puffed up his chest and felt the strength course through his veins.   
  
Abruptly, he let out his breath and slumped his shoulders. It was right hard to act tough when that same world had just discovered the truth.  
  
Sighing moodily, Spike sat down in front of a grave, idly tracing the letters that spelt "Joyce Summers" with his index finger. God, how he wished she were here. She'd sort out this whole bloody mess, probably get all the dirt from the Slayer and tell him just what was what.  
  
As long as the what wasn't that the whelp was cooler than him and that he had pranced around like a bleedin' nancyboy for the better part of two weeks.  
  
If only he could remember what had happened! Vaguely, he could recall a nice view of the Slayer's cleavage in the cemetary, a girl who looked like Kitty having dinner in the Summers' home, and... somebody in an old fashioned blue dress dancing around him, making him lost in the soft, flowing colour, until he was...  
  
Bloody hell, had he had sex with somebody in a blue dress? His mind was screaming that he had, and he hoped it had been amazing, because he couldn't remember it.   
  
"Well, congratulations, William old boy," he said dryly, "Time you became a man, don't you think?"  
  
He wondered who she was, and then dismissed it. It hardly mattered. He only hoped he hadn't written her any poetry.  
  
Exhausted, he ran a hand over his eyes and tried to let go of the feeling that he had forgotten something incredibly important. Something life changing. He shook his head angrily and swore he felt his brain rattle. He was experiencing the worst headache of his unlife, chip be damned.  
  
"Spike?"   
  
The word, softly spoken, echoed through his head, startling him. He looked up abruptly and felt his breath catch at the sight of the Slayer framed in the moonlight, her face obscured by the shadows.  
  
Buffy stared unbelievably down at the vampire sitting by her mother's grave, suddenly unsure of what to do. She had left his crypt heartbroken and the misery was still raw. Coming to her mother's grave had seemed natural. She couldn't face her friends like this. Couldn't tell them that Spike was *gone*.  
  
And here he was! A million emotions swept through her, making her weak. Pain, anguish, relief, joy, anger... She settled on anger and advanced on him. He seemed confused and glowered up at her. When she grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and hauled him to his feet, he actually swatted at her hands.  
  
For a moment, Spike didn't know exactly what she was up to. She stroked the lapels of his duster almost tenderly and he thought for a confusing moment that she meant to kiss him, which he was game for. Mentally, he heard the soft snap of a corset coming undone and that feeling tugged at him again, but he pushed it away and closed his eyes, prepared to feel her mouth on hers. It never came. Instead, he felt her fist on his jaw in one of her trademark coldcocks. His head snapped back and he went flying, landing with an undignified huff five feet away.  
  
The Slayer advanced on him swiftly, standing over him. For the first time, he noticed that her cheeks were tear stained and that her hands were trembling. Worry passed through him and that made him angry. Her and her stupid little gang had probably passed the week away making fun of who he had been and he'd be damned if he was going to stand around and take it.  
  
"You bastard!" she hissed, and to her horror, her voice broke. Ashamed, she turned from him and stalked over to her mother's grave. With her back to him, she added, "I can't believe you'd just *leave*. Even Angel said goodbye."  
  
"Well, I'm not Angel, am I?" he grouched, sitting up and rubbing his jaw, "And what about you, eh? Finally decide to come and poke fun at poor ol' Will?"  
  
She rounded on him again, eyes flashing. "So I didn't come earlier, so what? This hasn't been easy on me, you know! What if we'd needed you? Huh? What if Glory had been- oh I dunno- resurrected? Then what?"  
  
"Hasn't been easy on you? What about *me*? You left me sitting there for a soddin' week! I didn't even know what had happened! Bloody hell, I still don't! So don't you get all high and mighty with me, princess, when it was you and your precious little Scoobies who left. So go on. Leave me here in peace." With a final glare, he turned his back on her and lit a cigarette.  
  
Buffy whirled around and watched the smoke curl up above his head. "Ugh! I had so forgotten how annoying you are! Just go then! Leave!"  
  
As soon as she said the words, she wanted to take them back, but the hurt was too fresh. If Spike wanted nothing to do with her, then that was fine. Her almighty pride would save her.  
  
He got to his feet and gave her a curt look, before shrugging and heading off in the direction of the cemetary's exit. He had had enough. His pride was bruised immeasurably and, although he had no idea where exactly he was going, he knew he needed to be away. Maybe not forever, but for awhile. He needed time to be on his own, away from Sunnydale, away from where people *knew* him. He wanted somewhere remote where he could nurse his ego and remind himself that he was bad, chip be damned. Remind himself that William had died in an alley, over a century ago.  
  
"Spike, stop!"  
  
He did and cursed himself for turning around. He really was turning into the Great Poof, Buffy's comparison hadn't been far off.   
  
He stared at her for a moment, and he could tell that she was still angry, which was fine because so was he. But there was something different about her. She seemed... scared. He raised a scarred eyebrow at her.  
  
"Make it quick, Slayer," he said, surlier than he had meant to, "Don't have all night."  
  
"Don't go," she whispered, and felt her eyes flood. This shamed her and she bowed her head.  
  
"Give me one good reason to stay."  
  
This was her cue, and she knew it. She only wished he wasn't so *angry*. Although she had figured that he would be hurt by her lack of visiting immediately following Those Two Weeks, she had also thought a simple explanation of her newfound feelings would explain that. She hadn't really imagined all the wounded pride and misplaced ego.   
  
"I..." she said, and couldn't go on. Annoyed, she took a deep breath and gave it another go. "I-I-I-"  
  
"Ahh, you really did meet that soddin' prat, didn't you? Spit it out, luv."  
  
"I- I- I can't."  
  
He shrugged, turned around, and continued on his way. She was going to lose him and, God, but it was going to be all her fault. This was no time for pride. Inhaling harshly, she opened her mouth and yelled at his duster clad back, "I love you!"   
  
Spike froze midstep. For a moment, pure elation flooded him and he grinned, actually bloody grinned in the middle of this tirade! His headache let up and it came to him in a flash  
  
'I love you, William.' The words danced on his conscience and dampended his spirit. So this was it then. Dru, Harmony, and Cecily, he dared to suspect, had all wanted Spike, and sod all else. He had become Spike long ago, and now the Slayer loved William. She loved a man who no longer existed, a man he could no longer be, and the irony in that broke his heart.   
  
"Guess you got the girl, Will," he thought, before saying outloud, "William is dead, pet."  
  
"W-what?" Buffy stammered, caught off guard. This wasn't the reaction she had expected.   
  
He turned around slowly and forced a smile. "Died in 1880, in case you missed the memo."  
  
And then it all became clear to her. Spike actually thought she only loved half of him, a half that could no longer be. She knew deep down that he would settle for that, could tell by his sad smile that he was no longer going to leave, but she wasn't content with that. Now that the words were said, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She wanted Spike to *know*.  
  
"When I came back from... when I came back, it was a second chance. You said so yourself. A gift."  
  
Spike didn't comment. Instead, he kicked at the ground with his shoe. Her death still hurt.   
  
"Well?" she pushed.  
  
He looked up at her, surprised by the clarity in her eyes. His were filled with turmoil. He wanted to touch her, to take her hand or something equally William-like, but stayed perfectly still.  
  
"It was a bloody amazing gift," he admitted.  
  
"And me meeting William- meeting *you*- so was that. Don't you see? It was like a puzzle, only I couldn't find that missing piece. I didn't know what made you *you*. What made you be good, and you shut your mouth and don't deny it! What made you love Dru all those years and what makes you love *me* now. I needed to meet the man behind the demon, Spike, and on your own you only gave me glimpses. Plus, chaining me to a wall? I'd prefer poetry any day."   
  
She smiled wryly and looked up at Spike. He was staring at her, eyes filled with utter amazement. Her smile grew and she took a tentative step towards him.  
  
"What are you saying, luv?" he asked, nervously.  
  
"I think I already said it."  
  
"Say it again."  
  
Shyly, she murmured, "I love you, Spike. I love all of you."  
  
He let out a gigantic whoop then, and grabbed her about the waist. Cool lips collided with warm ones and she held onto him tightly. He explored her freely, let go by her acceptance. Eventually, he let her come up for air.  
  
Tentatively, they stared at each other, before Buffy reached down and gave his ass a good, hard swat, effectively killing the mood.  
  
"What was that for?!" he asked, rubbing his posterior and smirking.  
  
"I've wanted to do that *forever*!" she cried, giggling, "Those jeans, Spike, you are such a tease. I wanted to do that *so* bad the night those vampires jumped you! Oh, and you lost that bet by the way. You owe me big!"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "They had an unfair advantage. Snuck up on me from behind."  
  
"Whatever."   
  
"Are you ever going to tell me what the hell happened? I think I deserve to know whether or not I should stake myself."  
  
Buffy giggled and launched into a full and detailed account of all that had occurred, excluding only her dance with William as she had decided that now was not the place to tell him. By the end of it, Spike was reconsidering his decision to stay in Sunnydale.  
  
"So Xander knows I wrote poetry?"  
  
"Yup," Buffy said, and felt a small pang of pity.  
  
"Oh bloody hell."  
  
She laughed and took his hand, pulling him in the direction of her house.   
  
"C'mon, I'm cold, let's go home. And I mean both of us. Your crypt isn't, uh, exactly liveable right now. Not that it ever was, of course."  
  
She smirked up at him and he couldn't help himself. He leaned down and gave her one of the most ravishing kisses he could muster. Buffy was suitably breathtaken, but Spike looked confused.  
  
"Slayer," he began, scratching his head, "not to totally rain on our little parade here but... errr... did I shag a woman in a blue dress?"  
  
The Slayer's horrified gasp echoed throughout the cemetary.  
THE END  
  
(Sorry for the unnecessary amount of corniness in this chapter. It is late.) 


End file.
